Denying Fate
by Murkatroyd
Summary: Story to be rebooted under title "Harry Potter and the Veil of Passing". Reboot in progress.
1. Prologue: A Fate Worse Than Death

Author's Note: The following will be in Italics: Parseltongue, thoughts, flashbacks, letters, spells and dreams. Anything else incorporated with Italics will be duly mentioned.

Disclaimer: This world is not mine, and neither are its characters or spells, unless made up on the spot – these will be mentioned as stated. JKR owns this world, not me.

Full Summary: At the age of sixteen, Harry Potter was wrongfully thrown in Azkaban for the murders of his uncle, aunts and cousin. Nine years later, he is released. The threat of Voldemort is still at large, but will Harry help the wizarding world after they betrayed him? Slightly Darkish Harry, eventual HPDG.

**Prologue: A Fate Worse Than Death**

_**August 8th, 2005...**_

All was quiet. Not one noise could be heard in the darkness of dawn. This would have been strange to most people in a normal neighborhood. After all, most neighborhoods had owls and other birds, such as canaries, which could make sounds into the morning, sometimes waking people, sometimes letting their cries fall on deaf ears. However, the condition of this area was not a surprise to anyone, for it was not a normal neighborhood, or any form of neighborhood at all.

This was Azkaban Prison, the home of many powerful, insane people.

Within this prison, there were many people, also known as prisoners. They ranged from minor prisoners to high-security prisoners. The minors were only there for short periods of time – maybe a few months at most, if even that – while the high-security prisoners were there for decades or even lifetimes. In fact, it was very possible for one to be sentenced to two or more lifetimes in Azkaban. Those who died in Azkaban and were reincarnated would simply have their memories and charges put back into them. Then they would be sent right back for another lifetime. Most died long before one full lifetime was served. After all, not everyone reincarnated.

Some of the prisoners were only minor law-breakers who did things like disobey the Ministry of Magic, or speak against the Minister, who was, at the moment, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, a ruthless politician who did not accept the truth very easily if he did not like what the truth held. Other prisoners were shipped to Azkaban for insulting or attacking him: these prisoners would be here for years and years, maybe even decades.

Of course, there were also the supporters of the Dark Lord, Tom Riddle, otherwise known as Voldemort. These supporters, also called Death Eaters, were usually the ones sentenced to life in Azkaban. Some of them got off easy with only two or three decades wasted in the demonic prison, but others would live for the rest of their lives, and eventually die, in Azkaban.

There was one prisoner, however, who would remain in Azkaban for the rest of his days, and if he were to be reincarnated, would return for the rest of those days. This prisoner was none other than the famous Harry James Potter.

Harry Potter had been in Azkaban for nine years now. Not long after his sixteenth birthday, he had been charged with the mass murder of his remaining relatives. These people were Vernon, Petunia, Marge and Dudley Dursley, his uncle, aunts and cousin respectively. They had been found in the remains of Number Four, Privet Drive, with the unmistakable signs of the Killing Curse all over the four of them. Their bodies were unmarked, and if their eyes had not been open, wide with horror, they might have been seen as sleeping, and never waking up, for reasons unknown.

The reasoning for Harry Potter's motives behind killing his relatives had been unknown for a long time, but not long after the imprisonment, they had discovered the hostility between him and his Muggle relatives. They had discovered that he had hated his relatives ever since he had been sent to them so long ago and that he would be gleeful if they were to ever drop down and die painfully.

As far as the Ministry was concerned, he had simply not waited for them to drop of their own accord, and had not cared enough about their pain, or lack thereof.

Now at the age of twenty-five, Harry Potter's appearance had changed from when he had first been sent to Azkaban. When he had been charged, he was at an average height, although very thin. He had had emerald green eyes that had shined with radiance at any and all times, and a mop of jet-black hair that hung over his head, not long, but not short, and always, always messy. The bangs of his hair had hid his infamous lightning-shaped scar, which he had received at the age of one, the same night his parents had been murdered by Lord Voldemort. He also wore glasses at the time.

Now, however, he was almost unrecognizable. His emerald green eyes that had always shined so freely, so brightly, were now so dull that they might have been grey in color. They were sunken, and seemed to shine out of a dead body rather than a living, breathing body. His mop of jet-black hair was now past his shoulders, halfway down his upper arms, and hung limp around his head. It very much resembled two dark curtains, parted across the man's face. His glasses were gone, long sense rendered useless, as he no longer needed to see. His vision, without the glasses, had corrected itself over the years, and now, he could see perfectly, albeit slightly blurred, without glasses. His magic, which had not dulled over the years but had actually grown, had helped with this. The scar he wore on his forehead was so dim it was almost invisible, but it was still there. His bangs had parted with the rest of his hair, so that his scar was in perfect vision.

The man greatly resembled, not a human, but the living dead. The only thing that kept him alive here and now, with his sanity intact, was the simple fact that he knew he was innocent.

_Innocent..._

The light began to shine brighter and brighter as the sun rose on the oceans surrounding the prison. Azkaban itself was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, about one hundred miles off of the shoreline. It was designed so that Muggles would never see it, but the affects of the Dementors within would still affect them, and greatly so.

Ah, yes, the Dementors: the reason why Harry James Potter looked almost like a corpse. The vile creatures of Hell, as most called them, sucked dry every positive memory that one person could contain within them, leaving them with nothing but horrible memories and memories of traumatic experiences. Now, for most people, this was not nearly as bad as made out to be.

Obviously, Harry Potter was not most people, for he did not have many powerful memories to keep him safe from the evil power of the Dementors, and the ones he had were sucked from him immediately. In the span of six months, the first six months of his incarceration, he had been removed of every single good memory he knew of, and now, eight and a half years later, he was still suffering the effects of everything he had felt in his past.

Unfortunately, his past was filled with many, many horrors.

Where to begin, one could wonder? There was, quite obviously, the fateful Halloween night of 1981 where he had lost his parents. His parents, Lily and James Potter, had been murdered by Voldemort, and he himself, in all of his fifteen months of life, had witnessed the murders. Then, the wand had been turned on him, and he had survived, and Voldemort had been left powerless and helpless.

He relived this memory every second night.

Then there were the memories of his life at the Dursleys, from that Halloween night to the day he had left for Hogwarts for the first time. His life, from age one until age eleven, had been a living hell. He had been forced to sleep in a cupboard, eat scraps for meals, cook meals from the time he could reach the stove on a stool or chair, and ultimately stand there and let his cousin or uncle beat him if something abnormal ever happened in the household.

He experienced flashes of these memories every night.

After this, there were the times in Hogwarts, which he had once considered home, where he had faced down dangers of every kind. Every year, for five years, he had been faced with one thing or another. It started with his first ever Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirinus Quirrel. The young professor had tried, all year, to kill Harry. In the end, they had faced off in a chamber far below the school, with the prize being the Philosopher's Stone. Quirrel wanted it so that Voldemort would regain a body, and Harry did not want it, but wanted to save it. He unintentionally killed Quirrel with the power of his mother's sacrifice, which resided in his blood, and fought off Voldemort for the time being.

The following year, the Chamber of Secrets had been opened by the Heir of Slytherin. No one knew who this person was, but most suspected Harry of this because of his ability to speak the serpentine language, Parseltongue. Many people, and even a cat, got Petrified, and in the end, a student was kidnapped and taken into the Chamber of Secrets, where "her skeleton would lie forever". Harry managed to find the Chamber with the help of his friends, and fought off both the Heir himself, Tom Riddle's memory, and the Heir's monster, a Basilisk. He nearly died in the process, having been stabbed in the arm by one of its fangs, but thanks to a phoenix known as Fawkes, he had survived without injury. The only change was that he was now immune to poison.

During his third year, he had met his godfather, faced Dementors, and learned the truth about his parents' friends and their loyalties. To save his godfather, Sirius Black, he had had to fight off nearly one hundred Dementors at once, with a single spell. Such a task was no easy feat, but it worked, and Sirius Black had escaped, much to Harry's relief.

Then, at long last, the years of Voldemort's return to both flesh and power came to everyone. At the end of Harry's fourth year, the Darkest Lord in a century returned to a humanoid body due to a ritual that invoked Harry's blood, Peter Pettigrew's flesh, and Tom Riddle Senior's bone. The body resembled a serpent rather than a human, but was still a humanoid body. The mere image of Voldemort's new body still haunted Harry's nightmares.

But what Harry considered to be the worst vision he had while in the presence of Dementors, however, was his shadow of a trial. He wouldn't even call it a fair trial, for it was nowhere near the adequacy of a fair and law-following trial. For one thing, he had been denied the right to be administered Veritaserum. This was a key thing that he had been denied, as it had ensured that nothing he could say in court would be considered as credible. Then there was the fact that he had only had two people on his side, out of the entire court there.

His thoughts wandered to Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. These were the two that had made his stay at Hogwarts for five years quite uncomfortable. They had been enemies of a sort – Malfoy was his fellow schoolmate, while Snape was a professor; both were no longer at Hogwarts – and had been the ones to torment him constantly. However, this had all changed the day Harry was put on trial. They had testified for him, saying that he would never have been capable of committing murder, and that anyone with even one molecule of a brain could figure this out.

This hadn't gone over well with the rest of the court, nor the witnesses who testified against Harry Potter.

There had been others who had been on Harry's side, but for some reason, only Malfoy and Snape had been granted as witnesses. The others had been mysteriously absent from the court on the day of the trial. Harry knew who they all were. Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom, among few others... He wondered why Slytherins made up the almost completely majority of his defenders, but they more than likely had the same reasons as Malfoy and Snape. As for Neville, he had simply always enjoyed Harry's company, and unlike Harry's other friends, he had not thought Harry capable of the crimes he had been accused and convicted of, nor that he could ever possibly commit them.

He almost sneered at the thought of his former friends. They were Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, the two that, along with him, had made up the infamous Golden Trio during their time at Hogwarts. He had trusted them above everyone else he had ever known. Despite the issues that they had, with Ron's jealousy problem and Hermione's insistence to have to be right about everything, they had been the best of friends for almost five years.

What hurt the most was not the fact that they didn't believe him. No, that was the case with almost everyone else as well. It was the fact that they, along with everyone else, had testified against him with information he had told them in confidence.

He still remembered looking up at them from his position in the prisoner's chair, which bound any criminal who sat in it. Weasley had testified against him with evidence, or lack thereof, that he had been a glory-loving, attention-seeking prat who loved every ounce of his fame. Granger, however, had decided to bring his home life into it, making claims that he had committed the crimes because of the way he had hated his family. They knew all about this, as Harry had told them, in the strictest confidence, about it.

That was the other thing that hurt about it all. He had told them these things believing that they would never tell anyone else, and they had betrayed him once he was in no position to do anything about it. He wondered if they were ever truly his friends at all. Of course, when he thought of this, he wondered if he should have just gone to Slytherin, the house that the Sorting Hat had tried to put him in the first place, after all. Remus Lupin had also testified against him. Harry did not even remember what the man had said against him: the hurt and pain of Lupin's betrayal had affected him far more than the betrayals of his supposed friends had.

And then there was the man he had looked up to above anyone else, as if by default: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly.

Albus Dumbledore had testified against him by bringing up almost everything Harry had ever done, or been accused of doing, while he was at Hogwarts. Everything that had happened in his first, second and third year had been brought up in court. Harry had never stared at anyone, not even Voldemort himself, with as much hatred as he had mustered when he had looked at Dumbledore from below. He would never have believed before then that Dumbledore would betray him so completely, considering he had learned a month before the trial that it was because of Dumbledore that he was even staying with the Dursleys. The old man had seen to it that special wards – Dumbledore called them "blood wards" but Harry knew far better than that, considering that Voldemort shared his blood for a year before then – would keep Harry at the Dursleys every summer during the holidays from Hogwarts. He had finally realized, not long after his trial, that Dumbledore had done this to ensure Harry's loyalty to him; for every time Harry came back from the Dursleys every summer, he would look for someone to console him, and that was where Dumbledore, the pseudo-grandfatherly figure of a man, would come in. He had also realized that such wards could not exist if someone could enter and kill the Dursleys in their own home, which meant one thing: Harry Potter had never been protected when he had been with the Dursleys.

He had, of course, known that Fudge and the Ministry would side against him if he was put on trial. This had been exceedingly obvious ever since the beginning of the summer before his fifth year. Fudge had done everything he could aside from arresting Harry to discredit him; with the murder of Harry's relatives, Fudge had finally had the opportunity to actually throw him away in Azkaban, and he had taken the chance immediately, while forgoing an actual trial with a sham of a trial. Harry had been a condemned man from the moment he had found his relatives' corpses. He alone, along with those who had sided firmly with him, knew that he was innocent. And if it would take the world being taken over and destroyed for everyone else to realize this, that was fine with him.

Pulling himself out of his darkened thoughts, Harry weakly looked up from his spot on the bed. The sun was fully up now, brightening the dark cell that he sat in. Flicking his greasy curtains of black hair out of his face, he stood up, dragging himself towards the cell door. A small bowl of cold soup stood at the foot of the door, and he reached out and took the bowl. He raised it to his lips and drank the whole thing in one go. It was very cold because of the effects of the Dementors, but he hardly cared. He only got one meal a day and today he was very hungry.

As he sat down on the rusty bed again, he absently rubbed his scar. He still had visions of Voldemort, and through Voldemort's mind, to this very day. In fact, the connection felt like it was glowing at an alarming rate. Every night or two, he had a vision of some kind of attack or meeting that Voldemort was hosting, or sending his Death Eaters to. It was beginning to affect his mind, and rarely did he sleep. Of course, when he finally did get to sleep, he felt nothing but nightmares.

For Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, now the Man Who Was Condemned To Hell, his every waking and sleeping moments made up a living nightmare from which there was no escape.

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Author's Note:

So what do you think of my new installment? It's a tad bit different from my previous stories, but I'm sure it will come along just as well. I'm looking forward to seeing feedback, positive or negative. Just don't outright attack me, for nothing good comes out of that. If you don't like the story, throw in some pointers with your review, or some corrections, or anything of the sort. Baseless flaming never solves anything. Anyway, updates will be every two to three weeks at most, maybe up to a month or so depending on how busy I am - college and work keep me occupied, but I'm constantly going over ideas for my stories in my head, so things should work out well with this. Anyway, thanks for reading, and see you in my next installment!


	2. Chapter 1: After The Release

Author's Note: The following will be in Italics: Parseltongue, thoughts, flashbacks, letters, spells and dreams. Anything else incorporated with Italics will be duly mentioned.

Disclaimer: This world is not mine, and neither are its characters or spells, unless made up on the spot – these will be mentioned as stated. JKR owns this world, not me.

Full Summary: Harry Potter was accused of the murders of his relatives, and thrown into Azkaban. Nine years later, he was released. With the threat of Voldemort looming over the world, can Harry put aside his differences and save the world from Voldemort for good? DarkHarry, eventual HPDG.

**Chapter One: After The Release**

_**August 12th, 2005...**_

The sun was brighter than it had ever been this year, and no one in Azkaban, not even the guards, were happy with this. With the prisoners unable to gain much shelter from all of the light because of the very small sizes of their cells, it was hard to keep their eyes open. Harry, in particular, hated it. The sun shined in from the large window above his bed, which brought the whole room into light.

Grudgingly, Harry woke up from his sleep. His night had not been a good one anyway, due to his dreams being plagued by more visions of the past. He was really getting sick of all of these memories. After nine consecutive years of having no choice but to remain sane even through his plagued dreams and waking moments, he wondered if he'd ever be normal again.

_Just effing super,_ he thought to himself. _If I'm not some great, awesome hero, I'm a walking shell of a person. Though I suppose I'm used to it by now._

His nine years had all been the exact same routine every day. He would wake up, reminisce about his life, try to sleep again, get up again around midday, and find a cold tin of soup to drink, and then he would reminisce some more before going to sleep for the night. The food was only enough to keep him alive. If there was any less than there was now, he would surely have died a long time ago, possibly even mere months after entering Azkaban.

He had to admit, though, that Azkaban was a very different place from what everyone described it. He entertained the thought with a small twinge of amusement that those who judged Azkaban had probably never once seen it in their lives. It had, though, been his fourth and almost longest-lasting home. Should he be here two more years, he would be here longer than he had been at the Dursleys.

There was one major difference, however: he much preferred Azkaban, as mental as it sounded, to the place he had once called home by default, which was Surrey. The Dursleys had treated him far worse than Azkaban ever did. The only thing Surrey won out on was the lack of Dementors. Harry did have to give the Dursleys points for that one.

If Hogwarts hadn't given up on him so easily so many years ago, he might still consider the place his first real home, but as it was, he hoped that he never again walked through the hallowed walls, as everyone so described them.

Thinking about Azkaban and Hogwarts passed the time for him, but before long, his thoughts wandered into an area he'd much rather not travel.

That was his godfather and friend, Sirius Black.

Tears stung the depths of his sunken green eyes as he remembered that one of the last things he had witnessed before being arrested was Sirius' death. The man had been battling Bellatrix Lestrange in front of a mysterious archway with a strange, echoing veil. Bellatrix had hit him with a jet of light, and he had fallen through the archway, never to be seen again. Harry still remembered seeing it, watching Sirius fall through the archway...

...and then a memory of something Voldemort had said to Bellatrix a few years ago came to the forefront of his mind.

_(Flashback)_

_**June 23rd, 2002...**_

'_Come stand before me, Bella,' said Lord Voldemort, looking through a window in the rear of his throne room, his hands clasped behind his back._

_Bellatrix Lestrange, who had been working on a potion in front of the fireplace near the middle of the room, looked up from the table. 'My Lord?' she asked with confusion in her voice._

_Voldemort turned around, his serpentine features looking irritable, but not at her, as she could tell from her spot twenty feet away._

'_Come here, Bella,' he said again._

_Bellatrix walked over to Voldemort, coming to kneel before him at the bottom of his altar-of-sorts where his throne sat. She watched as he walked around his chair and stood before it, his arms folded over his chest. He looked at her with more than a little impatience in his face._

'_Stop with that nonsense, Bella,' he said coolly. 'You need not bow before me. That is for the lower fools and scum to do. Now come here.'_

_Bellatrix walked up the stairs and stood in front of Voldemort, now curious more than anything. She had never heard of Voldemort telling a follower, even her, to not bow before him. She knew how much he loved being in power and control; it was the only form of love that he knew about._

'_How can I be of assistance, my Lord?' she asked, a slight twinge of uneasiness in her voice as she spoke. While she had been in a room with Voldemort alone on many occasions, Voldemort had never been so mysterious to her at the time. She was his favorite and best follower, and this had been the case for many years now._

'_I must know something, Bella,' he replied. 'Something that happened in the Department of Mysteries six years ago.'_

'_You mean when I killed the traitor Black?' she asked, with malice this time._

_Voldemort nodded distractedly, not bothering to correct her lack of proper mannerism when talking to him. 'Yes, Bella: that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries. I must know what the spell you used on Black was. We know that he was knocked into the veil, but I have been researching this archway for many years now, and merely being knocked into it does not cause death. It is supposed to be a form of 'purgatory' between life and death. A limbo, if you will. What was the spell that you used to knock Black into the archway?'_

_Bellatrix paused for a moment, struggling to remember. It had been six years since she had killed Black. It was not the Killing Curse she had used; she had wanted Black out of the battle, not killed. No, there was only one other spell she could think of..._

'_I believe it was a stunner, my Lord,' she said with regret._

_Voldemort nodded, not really caring what she thought on the matter. It had been six years, after all, since that night._

'_There is a chance, albeit slim, that Sirius Black is still alive,' he said to her._

_Bellatrix looked up, surprised by this._

'_I want a team of people to research ways to bring people back from beyond the veil,' he barked to her. 'I want this team of people researching every day about the veil, and what lies beyond it. When we find out, another team will be entering the veil. If Black is still alive, I want him brought back out. We can use him in this war.'_

'_Yes, my Lord,' she said, bowing low._

'_Good girl,' he said, smiling. 'Now leave and find a team to commit to this. You may Crucio anyone who denies the task if you must.'_

_(End Flashback)_

Harry looked up with a jolt, remembering the scene he had seen three years ago. Voldemort had never mentioned it since then, leaving Harry to think that Voldemort must not have found a way to bring Sirius back. But Harry knew that, if he ever escaped Azkaban, he'd enter the veil to find Sirius.

Until then, he'd bide his time here and take the unbearable pain as it came.

------------

_**August 13th, 2005...**_

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, three people were sitting in the office of the residing headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

Ronald and Hermione Weasley, the newly married couple as of 2003, were discussing the current state of the war with the headmaster himself. Ronald was currently the coach in charge of Quidditch, having replaced the retired Madam Hooch, while Hermione taught History of Magic, having replaced the resident ghost, Professor Binns, who had seemingly vanished into nothing. No one knew what had happened to him.

'Albus,' said Hermione, looking over some notes for her class while she spoke, 'is Voldemort planning another attack soon? Will you need our assistance at all in defending against him?'

'Ah, that would be the question, wouldn't it, Hermione?' he said with only mild amusement, looking at her over his half-moon spectacles.

'With all due respect, that doesn't answer the question, Headmaster,' said Ronald, looking rather impatient.

Dumbledore merely smiled, looking at the two who sat in front of him. After the imprisonment of their former friend, Harry Potter, the two had stopped holding themselves back for his sake, and had become the two top students in the school one month into their sixth years. Or rather, Ronald stopped holding himself back. Hermione merely tried even harder than she already had. Not long after the start of their seventh year, they had started dating, and two years after graduation, they were engaged. They waited to get married until four years after that.

The convictions and charges against Harry Potter had at first greatly upset Hermione. She had not thought that Mr Potter was ever capable of murder. Ronald, however, had claimed that he had always known that Harry would turn around and show his 'true colors.' His jealousy of the Boy Who Lived really was amazing. In one fell swoop, he turned his back on the boy who had, for five years, thought of him as a brother of sorts. Not long before the trial, he had finally managed to convince Hermione of what Harry supposedly truly was. It was then that Neville Longbottom had vowed to never share a friendship with them ever again. Neither cared, for they had only tolerated Neville for Harry's sake, just like with Luna, who, for some reason, they had not seen since before the trial. She had been close to Neville, however, so it was easy to not case what she felt on the matter.

With the vast majority of the school on their side of the trial, the opinions against did not matter.

There was one thing that surprised Dumbledore, though. Severus Snape and a select few Slytherins had been on Harry's side. He had only allowed Severus and Draco in to testify, denying the rest a testimony, but it still surprised him to no end. Severus had always trusted him, and to find out that he agreed with Harry Potter, his mortal enemy, over himself was very unnerving.

The man's reasoning had been that Harry could never have killed anyone – he was too proud and outspoken for the light side to ever consider it. Dumbledore had almost laughed at this logic; there was a certain other person who he had thought would never kill someone, and that man had turned into a powerful and seemingly immortal Dark Lord not long after.

No, that was a misjudgment he would be sure to never make again, even if he had lost his most valuable pawn in this war.

'I believe he is planning an attack on Azkaban prison itself,' said Dumbledore wearily, hoping upon hope that his spy from within the Death Eater ranks was wrong about this. That was a place he did not want to see any time soon.

Both Ronald and Hermione paled at this.

'He's... He's gonna attack Azkaban?' Ronald all but shouted.

'Is he going to try and release all of the prisoners at once?' asked Hermione worriedly.

'Well, that is what we are assuming for the moment,' said Dumbledore, his tone projecting equal worry in it. 'For now, though, we can only assume that he is trying to take Azkaban for himself. According to Severus, that was his plan from the beginning, but he did not want to rush into it right away.'

'But can you trust Severus' word?' Hermione asked.

'I'd like to think we could for that instance alone,' Dumbledore replied with a bit of regret. He remembered only too well how Severus Snape had decided he was sick of risking his life to spy on Voldemort, and as such, left Hogwarts and Dumbledore behind to gain his own life. No one knew where he was now, and no one had seen him for about three years. The other Slytherins of Ronald and Hermione's age group, which included Draco Malfoy, had disappeared as well. Even Voldemort himself did not know where they were. 'While Severus may have proved a failure, he gave me only the most accurate of information before he left us. He told me of this plan a year before he left our Order for good.'

The couple in front of him nodded in unison, remembering only too well the day that Severus had left the Order of the Phoenix.

All three of them were pulled from their reveries, however, by a flashing green fire and a tumbling form. As they looked over, they saw the scarred face and wolfish form of Remus Lupin topple out of the fireplace.

'Remus, old friend,' said Dumbledore, surprised and happy to see the old werewolf. 'To what do I owe this unexpected but nonetheless excellent pleasure?'

Lupin, however, did not look as though he were here to reminisce over anything with Dumbledore and the others. On the contrary, he looked awful. His robes, although always tattered, were smeared with mud, and his face held nothing but shock and amazement, not to mention fear.

'What's wrong, Remus?' asked Hermione with concern.

Remus looked at all of them, as though contemplating whether to tell them his worst fear and his most feared nightmares.

'A Death Eater just appeared at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,' he said, his voice equally fearful as his face. 'He did not attack,' he added hastily, seeing the looks on everyone else's faces, 'on the contrary, he's turning himself in.'

'WHAT?' shouted Ronald and Hermione together. Dumbledore, however, stood up immediately, drawing his wand as he did.

'Who is it and what is he confessing?' he said, his voice ringing with the authority he had held for so many years.

Lupin looked almost feared for saying it; there were unshed tears in his eyes.

'It's Mundungus Fletcher,' he said in a small, frightened tone, 'and he's confessing to the murders of four Muggles.'

Ronald looked worried, Hermione fearful. Dumbledore, however, narrowed his eyes.

'Who are the four Muggles, Remus?' he asked, having a feeling he already knew the answer, and thus dreading what the answer would bring.

'Vernon, Petunia, Marge and Dudley: the Dursley family of Surrey,' he answered.

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In Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the fireplace suddenly glowed green, and four people rushed out at once. Dumbledore was quickest to his feet, and he ran over into the kitchen.

The entire Order of the Phoenix was assembled there, standing and sitting anywhere they could. All of them were looking directly at one person, who was sitting chained to a chair in the middle of the room, clearly under a Silencing Charm as well.

Mundungus Fletcher looked up as he heard the fireplace roar, and he almost jumped as he saw Albus Dumbledore running toward him. He immediately began shouting, but with the Silencing Charm performed on him, not a sound could escape his throat. Dumbledore stopped directly in front of him, revulsion in his face. He had never liked Mundungus, but the man had been useful in some cases. Now, however, everyone felt very, very gullible.

'I require Veritaserum, NOW!' Dumbledore all but screamed.

Hestia Jones hastily shoved a small, corked bottle of Veritaserum into Dumbledore's hands, and he immediately opened it. Immediately after, he removed the Silencing Charm from Mundungus.

What resulted was the loudest jumbled up noise anyone had ever heard: Mundungus had been screaming silently at the top of his lungs, and now the noise was reaching everyone else's ears.

'- and I didn' mean ter, I didn', I was on'y followin' orders –'

'SILENCE!' screamed Dumbledore, and Mundungus quieted down immediately, fearing the power in Dumbledore's voice. Dumbledore wasted no time: he immediately wrenched Mundungus' mouth open, which disgusted everyone in sight because of the filthiness, and poured a quarter of the bottle right down Mundungus' throat, causing the filthy man to choke a bit on the flow of potion.

'What is your name?' demanded Dumbledore, still furious.

'Mundungus Fletcher, folks call me Dung,' said Mundungus.

'Who do you swear allegiance to, Mr Fletcher?' Dumbledore asked, a little less demanding in his voice this time.

'I work with no one,' said Mundungus, his voice emotionless.

'Did you join the ranks of the Death Eaters?'

'Yes, I did, ten years ago,' was the reply.

'Why did you join the Death Eaters, Fletcher?' asked Alastor Moody, who had worked his way through the crowd and had his magical eye looking at Mundungus menacingly. Even under the effects of Veritaserum, Mundungus looked nervous at this.

'I wanted power, just like ev'ry other person who 'as ev'r joined the Death Eaters,' he replied tonelessly.

'Do you still serve the Death Eaters?' asked Professor McGonagall.

'No, I do not.'

'Do you still support the beliefs of He Who Must Not Be Named?'

'No, I do not. I never did.'

The others in the Order looked surprised at this, but Professor McGonagall dismissed it and continued onward with her questioning.

'Did you spy on us for He Who Must Not Be Named?' she asked coldly.

'Yes.'

'Did you pass information of the Order on to him?'

'Yes.'

'Was it critical, direct information you gave him?'

'No.'

'What do you mean, "No"?'

'I mean I on'y gave general ideas, not actual critical information.'

'And he believed you when you did this?' snorted Moody.

'I told 'im that the Order did not trust me with the complete information,' was Fletcher's reply. ''E believed me without any second thoughts. 'E never suspected that I was actually a double-agent, spyin' for both sides.'

'What did you hope to gain by this course of action?' asked Dumbledore.

'I did not hope to gain anything,' said Mundungus emotionlessly, staring at Dumbledore but not really seeing him. 'I merely wanted to stay alive.'

'So you put yourself in his ranks?' Dumbledore said, surprised.

'I on'y wanted to stay alive,' said Mundungus. 'I didn' say anythin' about denyin' 'is power.'

From the way he was starting to go back into his slurring tones, Dumbledore knew that he was close to free of the Veritaserum. More dosages could kill him, and Dumbledore wanted to avoid that, so he cut right to the chase.

'Did you kill Vernon, Petunia, Margaret and Dudley Dursley?' he asked.

'Yes, I did.'

'Why did you kill them?' Dumbledore asked.

'The Dark Lord told me ter,' was the reply.

'How did you enter the household?' he asked. 'I am certain I put wards up to defend them, and Harry when he was around.'

Mundungus showed a small twinge of confusion in his otherwise expressionless face.

'There weren' any wards when I went there,' he said.

'Very well,' said Dumbledore quickly, to avoid suspicion from the rest of the Order. 'Let's get to the point. Did Harry kill the Dursleys?'

'No.'

'Did you really murder them?'

'Yes.'

'How did you manage this?'

'Four killin' curses, four corpses,' said Mundungus. 'They never 'ad a chance in 'ell, them Muggles.'

'Then why was Harry accused?' asked Dumbledore.

'I was disguised as 'im,' was the reply.

'You were under the effects of Polyjuice potion?'

'Yes.'

'I am not aware of giving my Order any form of essence of Harry, not even hairs,' said Dumbledore coldly.

'You didn' give me anythin' to impers'nate 'im,' said Mundungus. 'But the Dark Lord did.'

'What could Voldemort" – there was a collective gasp at Voldemort's name that he pointedly ignored – "possibly have of Mr Potter's that could be used to impersonate him?' asked Dumbledore with a hardened voice.

'We used 'is blood.'

Everyone's jaws dropped. Hermione screamed and Ronald dropped a glass of Firewhisky that he had been setting up for himself. Dumbledore, however, looked at Mundungus angrily.

'Don't be foolish, Mundungus,' he said angrily, the twinkle gone from his eyes. 'Where could you have gotten Harry's blood in the last ten years? He's been in Azkaban prison, and before then, Hogwarts School!'

'Did you really forget, Dumbledore?' Mundungus said with a small sneer, his musky drawl gone completely. 'The Dark Lord houses Potter's blood. His blood and Potter's blood are one in the same, thanks to the ritual that brought him back into a living body. He **wanted** Potter framed, and so he used Potter's blood to not only have his protection in his veins, but to indirectly have Potter framed and thrown in Azkaban. He trusted me with this, and I did so.'

Everyone was looking at Mundungus strangely now.

'Mr Fletcher, you're not under the effects of Veritaserum anymore, are you?' said Dumbledore fearfully, knowing the answer before it came.

'No, I am not.'

'So all of that drunken drawling was an act? A charade?' said Professor McGonagall, clutching the spot on her chest right above her heart.

'You are exactly right, you old hag. You all fell for it, too.'

Mundungus Fletcher, the man everyone thought was a simpleton fool, lied back against the chair he was sitting on, letting the chains hold him down. He appeared to be enjoying himself.

'So you do still serve Voldemort,' said Dumbledore a minute later. It was more of a statement than a question.

'That's right, old man,' he said with a sneer. 'It's just hard to believe you fell for the same thing twice. If memory serves me right, you fell for Quirrel's act, too. You aren't a great judge of character, are you?'

'Enough!' shouted Dumbledore, shooting a stunner at Mundungus, who fell limp against his chains immediately. 'Alastor, take him to the Ministry. Bring a Pensieve with you. Cornelius needs to be informed of this.'

'Albus, do you really think Fudge will care if Mundungus is guilty?' Moody said angrily. 'He convicted Potter without a proper trial, remember?'

'It does not matter,' said Dumbledore. 'Even Cornelius cannot deny the state we are in right now. If he does not cooperate, I will come myself. Now take him away.'

Moody shrugged and relinquished the chains, picked up Mundungus' limp body, and took him through the fireplace, shouting "The Ministry of Magic Atrium" as he went. Both he and Mundungus' body disappeared with a green flash.

Dumbledore sighed and looked around. Everyone looked very, very nervous. No one dared to speak for even a moment for any reason. The weight of what had just been revealed to them was only now crashing down all around them, making it very hard to breathe.

'So... he was innocent the whole time?' said Ronald fearfully, dreading the answer. As thick as he was, even he knew what was happening.

'Yes, Mr Weasley, he was,' said Dumbledore, not looking at him. He had his eyes fixed firmly on his feet. 'We left an innocent teenager to rot in Azkaban for nine long years, for a crime he did not commit.'

_This isn't good,_ he thought to himself. _I dread what will happen when he is released. Not even Voldemort's temper scares me that much. I only hope it is not too late..._

Nodding sadly to everyone, he walked to the fireplace, shouted, "Hogwarts School Headmaster's Office", and vanished.

------------

_**August 13th, 2005...**_

Cornelius Fudge was not having a good day. No, this day had been rather lousy. Three attacks on different Muggle villages had been brought to the Ministry's attention, and all of the Muggles in each village had been found dead in their spots. He was beginning to really fear for his job. Hell, he was surprised that he had not been sacked years ago.

He had just gotten out of a meeting with the assistant head of the Wizengamot. The old witch had said that there were a few Death Eaters who had been captured and tried. They had been sent straight to Azkaban afterwards.

_Good riddance,_ he thought snidely.

Going back to his office, he walked almost headlong into Alastor Moody, who had been dragging an unconscious man alongside him in the process. Growling under his breath at the sight of the retired Auror, Cornelius spoke first.

'What can I do for you, Alastor?' he asked with what he hoped to be concern in his voice. He certainly didn't feel concern.

'Minister Fudge,' said Moody, raising the unconscious body of who Cornelius now recognized as Mundungus Fletcher into plain view. 'I have come to bring this miserable excuse of a man to justice. We have found him guilty of crimes that were committed almost a decade ago.'

Cornelius nodded, not really knowing what to say. The way Moody had said it, there might have been a hidden message in the words.

_That's Moody for you, I suppose,_ he thought to himself.

'Well, come on, then, to my office,' he said resignedly.

They entered the office, which was just down the hall, and Moody made a point of throwing Fletcher's body into the chair. He didn't bother to straighten it upright.

'So where is your evidence, Alastor?' asked Cornelius with forced politeness.

Moody reached into his jacket and pulled out a small Pensieve, which he enlarged without looking at it. He placed it on the table, reached back into his jacket, and pulled out a small vile of swirling smoke. It was a memory.

'Go on in and take a look, Minister, it will be easier than explaining it,' said Moody.

Cornelius sighed and entered. Moody sat down, idly flicking his wand to restrain Fletcher's body. Five minutes in, Fletcher stirred, but Moody kicked him in the side of the head and he lay still again. Ten minutes after, he came back out. He promptly fainted on the office floor.

'I see Fudge took it almost as badly as everyone else,' Moody muttered to himself. He pointed his wand at Cornelius and muttered, '_Enervate._'

Cornelius awakened and stood up, looking around. Terror was in his eyes as he realized the enormity of what had happened. He almost fainted again.

'This won't go over well,' he said, before actually fainting again.

'Indeed it won't, Minister,' said Moody calmly. He placed the Minister in his chair behind his desk and walked out of the room, carrying Fletcher's body with a floating charm behind him.

------------

_**August 14th, 2005...**_

Harry woke up again, having just had yet another vision of his past. This time, he had seen the Dementors when they had almost sucked out Sirius' soul, back in Harry's third year.

_I'll never escape these dreams,_ he thought sadly, not for the first time in nine years. _I'll live with this never-ending nightmare forever._'

Just as he had spoken the words in his head, he heard footsteps. Sitting up on the bed, he turned around to see a man standing in front of the door. The man raised his wand and pointed it at the door, and it immediately opened. He then entered the cell, looking right at Harry, who did not recognize him for a moment but looked at him anyway. He then realized, from the size of one of the man's eyes, that it was Mad-Eye Moody looking back at him.

'Let's go, Potter,' Moody said. 'You're free.'

Harry played the words over and over again in his mind for what seemed like an eon... but it was really only a couple of seconds. He stood up, flicked his greasy hair out of his face, and walked up to Moody. He now stood at six inches taller than the man, meaning that he had gotten much taller since the day he had been imprisoned.

_Though I still look like a walking shell,_ he mused to himself without amusement.

He followed Moody out of the cell, walking behind him. He had no desire to walk alongside the man. Moody merely shrugged and continued leading the way out into the main entrance. It was a long walk, lasting ten minutes, but neither man cared, nor did they speak. They remained silent the entire way through.

When they reached the entrance of Azkaban, Harry saw a large group of people waiting in the hall that he had not see since his first day here. The mere sight of the group almost made him turn around and walk back to his cell.

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were standing at the front of the group, each with an arm around the other. They both stared, Harry noted with disgust, at him with sadness in their eyes. Behind them was Professor Minerva McGonagall, who had a hand over her heart. He did not look at her for long. Turning his head, he saw a small group of the other Weasleys standing with Remus Lupin, who looked scared. The Weasleys present were Bill, Charlie and Ginny, and their parents, Arthur and Molly. Harry was a little surprised to see that Fred and George were not there, but remembered that neither had been against him in the trial. He reminded himself to thank them later, if he ever saw them. He knew that Percy had played no part in this, as the man had not been at the trial, and he had not voiced an opinion; that, and he was not part of the Order of the Phoenix, of which he had no doubt the young Weasleys and Hermione were part of now.

Also in the group were a large number of the previous Order of the Phoenix, including Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones. Harry did not even spare Diggle, who had tears in his eyes, a second glance. Instead, he fixed Hestia and Lupin a dark glare, and continued looking. The other members of the Order were there, minus Severus Snape, but the remaining man who was there was the last person Harry ever wanted to see again.

Albus Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the group, his spectacle-covered eyes showing immense grief. He wore midnight-blue robes and his beard was actually tucked inside his belt. Harry was tempted to laugh at the sight of him, but he decided, in an act of immense maturity, that he would not stoop to that level. Remembering how close he had come to being a Slytherin – he would not think of himself as a Gryffindor anymore – he decided to adopt their attitudes of maturity: he would simply say nothing and ignore them.

That plan fell flat the moment people began to stammer at him. Dumbledore held up a hand to stop them, and their stammering fell flat.

'Harry, my dear boy,' he said, looking as though he were choosing his words as carefully as possible. 'I-I'm so s-'

Harry held up a hand to silence him, copying Dumbledore's previous movement, and Dumbledore stopped in mid-sentence, seeing the coldness in Harry's eyes. Harry scanned the group again, looking for anyone he might actually be willing to see. Noticing no one that fit this category, he turned to Dumbledore and spoke for the first time that day.

'Where is Severus Snape?' he asked in a raspy voice, taking glee in seeing Dumbledore's face show some self-disgust. He looked older than he had ever looked before.

Some of the people in the group looked surprised at this, but Harry ignored them completely.

'He could not come today,' replied Dumbledore, almost holding his breath.

'All right... and what about Neville Longbottom?'

'He was busy with other matters as well,' was Dumbledore's stammered reply. Harry's eyes darkened considerably at these words.

'All right, what of Draco Malfoy, or Blaise Zabini, or the Weasley twins, Headmaster? How about Daphne Greengrass, or Luna Lovegood, or anyone else like them? Did you actually think to bring anyone with you who didn't feel or think they needed to beg for my forgiveness?' he asked harshly, glad at the united reaction of worry from everyone else. Even Alastor Moody looked nervous. 'Or even someone who actually believed me when I told them I was innocent of my crimes? Or did you decide that since you and your _Order_ were the ones who got me out of Azkaban, all was well with your precious, ever-loving _Boy Who Lived_?'

Dumbledore looked fearful of Harry's tone, but Harry hardly cared; he had been waiting to lay into the head professor of Hogwarts for nine years now. He was hardly going to pass this chance, especially when the old man had not thought to bring anyone who had actually stood up for Harry in the first place.

'Harry, you m-' Dumbledore began, but Harry cut him off.

'Tell me, Headmaster, do you really think that you have the right to address me by my first name?' asked Harry coldly, his voice still raspy. 'One would think we knew each other well; as though we were friends, or even acquaintances.' His eyes darkened further. 'I certainly don't know of either relation working for the two of us. You may call me by my proper title, and nothing else.'

Dumbledore paled further. He changed tactics, and tried again.

'Mr Potter, you must understand, it was a dark time for everyone within the boundaries of the wizarding world,' the wizened man said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of his own words rather than Harry, who merely raised his eyebrows darkly. 'The evidence of the crime was pointed at you, and there were crimes everywhere from Death Eaters that were taking up the time of the Wizengamot, and...' He trailed off.

Harry turned away from him, not bothering to hide the disgust in his face. He instead walked forward, toward the front doors, right through the crowd of cowed people. No one dared to stay in his way. That is, until Ronald, being the genius he was, did not step away.

Harry merely brushed by him, not sparing a second glance at his former best friend. Ronald did not, however, give up there; he chose that moment to speak.

'Mate, you can't -'

That was all Ronald had managed to stutter before Harry spun on the spot and punched him in the face, knocking Ronald backwards by a little bit. Rubbing the red mark on his pearly white knuckles, Harry turned around and walked out the doors as though nothing had happened. The others fell into step behind him, but at distance enough so that they were safe should he attack them as well. Hermione waited behind with her husband, who was staring after Harry with a seriously frightened look.

'Did he hurt you, dear?' she asked, her tone frightened.

'No, he didn't,' replied Ronald in a low voice, stroking his cheek where he had been struck and looking strangely aggrieved. 'That's what worries me. I barely felt that at all. It was like something in the wind catching my face as opposed to an actual punch.'

'Harry's in a worse condition than we thought he would have been,' said Hermione, her voice frightened. 'Oh, what have we done?'

Ronald knew this was a rhetorical question and did not reply to it.

'Come on,' he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along to catch up with the rest, who were now a bit of a distance away. They were walking up, Harry leading the way, to a medium-sized boat.

When they had reached the shoreline, Harry stopped and turned around.

'Where is my wand?' he asked coldly.

Nobody answered. Everyone looked more frightened than they had looked inside the Entrance Hall of Azkaban. Molly Weasley actually fainted this time, her husband catching her.

'I repeat, _where is my wand?_' snarled Harry, who ignored this.

'I-It was snapped in half after the trial, when the verdict was reached,' said Remus Lupin, looking scared stiff. Harry paid this no mind whatsoever; he glared at the man, looking mutinous now.

'Who snapped it?' he spat. 'Answer me!'

'The Minister did,' said Hestia Jones. 'He was convinced of your guilt, so when he found out what the verdict was, he took your wand and broke it in half.'

Harry's eyes were like two tiny black holes now.

'I'm going to have a discussion with the Minister myself when I get back to London,' he snapped under his breath.

Unfortunately, everyone else heard him.

'Are you nuts?' snapped Moody, breaking the tension. His magical eye was spinning around madly. 'We just got you out of Azkaban! Are you trying to get yourself thrown back in there?'

'Why not?' replied Harry indifferently, spitting into the sand. 'Azkaban hasn't been a big change to what the rest of my life has been like, so why should I care about being sent back to my old cell? I got used to the Dementors a long time ago anyway.'

'What are you talking about, Potter?' Moody snapped.

'What do you think I'm talking about, Moody?' Harry roared, and the retired Auror actually took a step back out of shock. 'Throughout my life I've either been imprisoned at the Dursleys, where I get ridiculed and tormented, or at Hogwarts, where I faced a different danger every effing year! In what way is a wizarding prison different from that?'

Moody did not seem to have an answer to this, though that did not stop him from glaring at Harry angrily, as if annoyed by the young man's opinion. Harry merely sneered at him and turned around, walking towards the boat.

'Harry, you aren't going to continue holding this against us for long, are you?' whispered a quiet voice from the back of the group. Harry turned around yet again and looked into the face of Remus Lupin, who looked back, albeit regretfully. He continued irregardless. 'You can't stay mad at us forever.'

'And why shouldn't I?' he roared. Everyone stepped back from him until at least ten feet were between them. Harry did not notice this, for his eyes were red with fury and rage. 'Why shouldn't I hold what all of you did to me against you? You not only abandoned me, you actually gave evidence against me! That _MUGGLEBORN_' – at this, he pointed at Hermione – 'even had the nerve to bring my personal vendettas with the Dursleys into the matter! I told them that in CONFIDENCE, hoping they'd tell NOBODY! And let's not forget her constantly jealous idiot of a husband, who resorted to slandering me since he had nothing else he could hold against the "lying, attention-seeking prat" that was his best friend!'

'Harry, I didn't –'

'You don't understand –'

'I DO UNDERSTAND!' he roared, his raspy voice echoing against the walls of Azkaban, even at the distance they were from it. 'I understand PERFECTLY why you two did what you did! What I do NOT understand is why THEY' – he now pointed at Dumbledore and Lupin – 'wouldn't even ATTEMPT to let me defend myself in court! And you expect me to forgive you that easily?'

He glared at everyone in front of him, who had backed up further in fear.

'You have no idea what I went through in Azkaban,' Harry spat, looking at them with nothing short of loathing in his eyes. 'You have no idea what kind of terror I was faced with day in and day out _for nine effing years_! Do you know who I heard at night when I tried to sleep? My mother, begging Voldemort to spare me! STOP BEING SO COWARDLY!' he roared, noticing the collective flinch that nearly everyone had let out at Voldemort's name. 'You're supposed to be fighting this guy, and you can't even hear his damn NAME without cowering! You're all pathetic! If I didn't have anything personal against Voldemort right now, I'd let him finish you all off right now!'

'Wait a minute,' interrupted Albus Dumbledore, who had paled for the umpteenth time in half an hour at Harry's concluding words. 'Do you mean to say that you have no intention of fighting Voldemort?'

'Of course I do, you ridiculous old man!' Harry snarled, his long hair beginning to float around him with his rage. 'He killed my parents, and I have no intention of letting him escape from his fate: his death at my hands!'

'But you will not work with us to ensure this?' Dumbledore asked.

'Have you not heard a word I said, Dumbledore?' snapped Harry, who had lost the remainder of his low patience now. 'I will not work with people who abandoned me without a second glance backwards! You all betrayed me, and now, I'm going to finish this. AND I'LL DO IT ON MY OWN! When I kill Voldemort, it will be on my own agenda, and no one else's!'

'But hundreds of innocent people could die before then!' shouted Dumbledore.

'THEN LET THEM DIE!' screamed Harry, whose magic burst at that moment, sending shockwaves everywhere around him. The sand flew around and around, forming typhoons that touched the sky, while the boat was rocking back and forth against the waves. Harry noticed nothing of this. 'NOT ONE PERSON IN THE WIZARDING WORLD STEPPED TO MY DEFENSE ALL THOSE YEARS AGO, WHEN I WAS EFFING SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, AND THOSE THAT DID WERE SCOFFED AT AND TORMENTED! WHY SHOULD I SACRIFICE MYSELF FOR THE VERY SAME PEOPLE WHO ABANDONED THEIR "SAVIOUR" WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT WHEN IT SEEMED CONVENIENT TO THEM? WHY SHOULD I SAVE THE WORLD FROM AN EVIL IT'S BEEN FUELING FOR TEN YEARS? WHY SHOULD I CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE WHO WON'T FIGHT BACK AGAINST THE DARKNESS? I REFUSE, DUMBLEDORE! I WILL NOT HELP YOU, SO LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR WAR!'

The storm died with Harry's rage, and the sands and the waves fell back into calm. Harry turned around, not bothering to look back at them, and walked onto the boat without another word. The others, who looked scared for their lives now, walked onto the ship, hoping upon hope that they returned soon.

Dumbledore and Lupin were the last to walk onto the ship. Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly before turning away, staring out over the edge of the water. Lupin, however, looked at Harry with anger in his gaze.

'The Harry Potter I knew would never have left innocent people to their deaths,' he said quietly, his voice coated in rage.

Harry did not bother sparing him a look.

'The Harry Potter you knew is gone,' he said as he looked out over the water. 'The Harry Potter you knew died when you and everyone else abandoned him to the Dementors. Maybe now you and everyone else will finally realize that I'm not a pawn in your wars. I'm a human being, just like everyone else, and all I've ever wanted was to be treated that way. If you haven't finally noticed, Remus,' he finished, turning to look at Lupin with coldness etched in his gaze, 'then here's your final reminder: I'm not James Potter.'

Lupin fell back, shocked at Harry's words. Tears now fell freely from his eyes as he turned away from the young man who so resembled his long since deceased best friend, and walked down into the lower level. He did not come back up for the duration of the trip across the ocean.

The trip itself was uneventful. The Order members kept their distance from Harry, who hung over a side of the boat, staring out sightlessly across the water. He was staring at Azkaban.

Hermione almost wanted to go over and comfort the young man who was so clearly lost within his own mind, but she knew better. After the magical outburst Harry had performed before they had left, she knew far better than to cross him, especially when he had made it clear that he held much hatred towards her. _And I deserve every bit of it,_ she thought, tears running down her own cheeks.

They arrived in London three hours later, and the Order members walked out first, none of them looking at Harry; they did not want to see the hatred in his eyes. Harry merely rolled his eyes and followed after them. When he got out, he was surprised to see Severus Snape and Neville Longbottom waiting there, presumably for him.

Harry smiled genuinely for the first time in nine years and walked over to them. He stood at just two inches shorter than Severus, and three taller than Neville. He held out his hand, surprising Severus greatly, and Severus took it immediately. The Order watched on in shock.

Severus did not take his eyes off of Harry, who dropped his Occlumency barriers that he had mastered after years of practice and let the man into his mind. Severus saw everything, including the confrontation that had happened just before the trip. He smirked at the sight of Lupin berating Harry and Harry throwing the words back in his face.

'You've been through a lot in Azkaban, it seems,' he said softly, his voice strangely pleasant without the sneer Harry had known so well in it. 'I'm glad you're all right, Mr Potter.'

'Thank you, Professor Snape,' he replied respectfully. 'Not just for the compliment, but for everything you did for me. I know you defended me during the trial.'

'It was my pleasure, Mr Potter,' said Severus. After years of having only his small group and his own thoughts, Severus had decided he needed to start afresh with Harry when he saw him again, and so he did. He harbored no further hatred for his former nemesis. 'I could never have believed you guilty of murder.'

'The only murder I'm planning is Voldemort's,' said Harry, and Severus and Neville both nodded, neither flinching at the name. 'And maybe Dumbledore's, if he doesn't leave me alone,' he added under his breath, causing both men to smirk.

'Let's go, then,' said Severus. 'We have a headquarters in southern London. We'll be staying there, Mr Potter.'

'Sounds good to me,' Harry grinned.

As the three men began to walk away, a voice stopped them.

'No, Severus. Harry will be returning with us for now. We have unfinished matters to discuss.'

Harry turned incredulously to face Albus Dumbledore, who had his wand out now. He held out an arm to stop Severus from advancing on the old man he hated, and looked at Dumbledore with nothing short of loathing.

'We have nothing to discuss, Dumbledore,' he said coldly. 'I have already told you that I will only finish Voldemort off when I see it fit.'

'You cannot turn your back on the prophecy, Harry,' said Dumbledore firmly.

'Watch me,' replied Harry. 'Come on, Severus, Neville, let's go.'

The three men turned around again, only to have a jet of red light shoot at them from behind. Harry spun on the spot and slapped the jet of light with the back of his hand, knocking it away. He looked at Dumbledore furiously, walking forward towards him, until he was inches from the man. Everyone else backed away.

'Listen here, old man,' he said coldly and in an intimidating tone. 'You do not have the right to dictate what I do any longer. You have no control over me. If you and your Order,' he spat the word "Order", 'do not stay away from me, I swear to you that I will leave the wizarding world to its demise. Do I make myself clear?'

Visibly frightened, Dumbledore nodded. Harry spat at his feet and walked back towards Severus and Neville. Severus took Harry by the upper arm and the group Disapparated away.

------------

Read and review! I'm interested in knowing what you think of my update.


	3. Chapter 2: The Turn For The Worst

Author's Note: The following will be in Italics: Parseltongue, thoughts, flashbacks, letters, spells and dreams. Anything else incorporated with Italics will be duly mentioned.

Additional Note: Some of the reviewers have pointed out that I made a mistake with the position of the Quidditch Professor. I put it as Madam Pince rather than Madam Hooch. It was a foolish mistake on my part, and it has been corrected.

Full Summary: Harry Potter was accused of the murders of his relatives, and thrown into Azkaban. Nine years later, he was released. With the threat of Voldemort looming over the world, can Harry put aside his differences and save the world from Voldemort for good? SlightlyDarkHarry, eventual HPDG.

Disclaimer: This world is not mine, and neither are its characters or spells, unless made up on the spot – these will be mentioned as stated. JKR owns this world, not me.

**Chapter Two: The Turn for the Worst**

_**August 16th, 2005...**_

It had been two days since Harry had been released from Azkaban. Nothing had changed, except for two attacks held by Death Eaters that had taken place the previous day. There had been no survivors among the victims. The Death Eaters, with Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange at their lead, were becoming more and more ruthless with each successful attack. It seemed that there was no stopping them, as the defense that the Order of the Phoenix was putting up was minimal at best, and even then they were plowed through.

Harry Potter found that he cared very little about any of this, as he had watched all of this through his mind and his cell window not even a week ago.

Two days ago, when the Order of the Phoenix had come to escort Harry back to London and Harry had shown them just what he thought of them, he would have thought that they would have the common sense to heed his word and just stay the hell away from him. He had soon learned that he would not get off that easy.

The Ministry had been informed of Harry's attitude towards the wizarding world's last defense aside from the Auror squad, and they had been far from pleased at this. Cornelius Fudge in particular was furious when he had learned that Harry would not accept the help of the Order or anyone else. He had nearly exploded when Harry had all but told them that he'd rather leave the wizarding world permanently than align himself with the people who were currently defending the world from Voldemort's Death Eaters. Fudge, in all his anger and fury, had apparently forgotten that he had been a key part in Harry's wrongful imprisonment. All he seemed to care about was Harry being on the front lines, battling Voldemort and ridding the world of the menace once and for all.

There were no articles in the _Daily Prophet_ about the release, but Harry knew they were biding their time, waiting for the right moment to lay into him for the rest of the world. He knew perfectly well that no one was happy with his decision, and he couldn't care less.

He had learned that there were some others staying with Severus and Neville; the very same people who had defended him all those years ago when he had been cast away. Among them were Draco Malfoy, who had made peace with Harry the minute he had returned, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Luna Lovegood, Fred and George Weasley, and Nymphadora Tonks. Harry was very surprised to see Tonks there, but Severus told him that she had supported Harry in secret, and had been kicked out of the Order the moment he had been thrown in Azkaban, when she had chosen the moment to voice her opinion to them.

_Those bloody cowards,_ he thought bitterly.

He enjoyed catching up with Neville, Luna, Fred and George, who had all grown and matured immensely (Luna had long since stopped sprouting insane beliefs from her father's magazine, but she still stuck to her beliefs that did make sense to others), while he was a little hesitant to approach Malfoy and the Slytherins, whom he had not been on good terms with before his imprisonment. Knowing that they had risked a lot in defending him, however, Harry showed manners in speaking to them.

That night, they all gathered in the main lounge of the home, which was located on Spinner's End somewhere in England. Harry had learned that it was Severus' former home. They shared an enlarged bottle of Firewhisky between them, and held a toast.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Severus began, 'this is a very interesting turn of events indeed. Harry Potter has been freed from Azkaban after nine years of attempts to free him, and if all goes well, Cornelius Fudge will not be in office for much longer due to his role in Mr Potter's imprisonment. I think I speak for everyone here when I say,' and here he raised his glass in the air, locking eyes with Harry, 'many happy returns, Mr Potter.'

'Thank you, everyone, and you, Professor,' said Harry, raising his own glass.

Everyone raised their glasses at Severus' concluding words, and they all drank in unison. It marked the first time that Harry had ever drank Firewhisky: it was a rather wonderful taste, burning feeling into his throat while making him feel much more alive.

A lot had changed over the last few years with the others in look and attitude. Harry's hair, which had been long and greasy, was still just as long, but he now tied it back into a ponytail behind his head that ran about half a foot long. His hair was no longer greasy, and his voice was not as raspy anymore. His eyes did not shine as they used to, but he still did not wear glasses. His corrected vision had not been a fluke of Azkaban, it seemed. The others had also changed in looks as well. Both twins shared identical goatees, while Neville now used a cane and had a missing eye. He did not replace it with a magical eye, however; he merely wore a patch over the eye socket. He was married to Luna, whose dirty blonde hair ran down to her hips now. She merely kept it in a long plait. Malfoy was now sporting a long scar across his face, from above his left eye to around his cheekbone, compliments of a rather painful curse from his dear father. Zabini, however, looked the same as he had before, albeit older, while Daphne looked much the same as ever, with little to no change.

Severus seemed to have the most drastic change. His black eyes had dulled over the years, giving them a permanently pained look. His trademark greasy black hair was now flecked with grey in it, and hung to his shoulders. He also had a shadow of a beard, which had a bit of grey in it as well. He did not smile at all anymore. He had never smiled much, but he did not even smirk anymore. If he did, it was rare.

Everyone present, however, wore the same tired look, and everyone seemed to radiate pain and sorrow. There had been much loss in the war on their part, and it was hard for anyone to be happy about anything nowadays. What they did find happy, they took with great respect. Harry was proud of them. They had stood up for him all of these years, against both Death Eaters and the general public. This served to deepen his hatred for the people who had abandoned him and now wanted him back in the frontlines.

Harry knew the shared look that everyone possessed now. It was a look that he himself had worn for years when he had first entered the wizarding world, fourteen years ago.

It was, undoubtedly, the look of a survivor of a war of Hell.

------------

_**August 18th, 2005...**_

'We all know why we are here today,' said Albus Dumbledore to the group assembled before him in his office. As much as it pained him to say it, he knew he needed to. It could prove to be their only hope in winning the war once and for all. 'We need Harry Potter back. He now holds a harboring grudge against the wizarding world, and we must make him see beyond this. The world is slowly falling apart. This is not the correct time for harboring hatred against fellow allies. We must unite, and fight off the dark forces that have threatened our world for so long now. We must bring Harry back to us, for only he can save us.'

The Order of the Phoenix applauded, giving Dumbledore a standing ovation.

'We'll bring Potter back!' shouted some voices.

'This war will soon come to an end! We'll finally be allowed peace!' called out others.

One person, however, did not clap, and it was then that everyone calmed down enough to look at her as she stared, with incredulity, at Dumbledore.

'Exactly how do you plan to bring Harry back to us, Headmaster?' asked Hermione Weasley, a bit of suspicion in her gaze and voice as she spoke to him. Dumbledore's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing to her attitude. 'Considering what the world did to him so long ago, who are we to ask him for help?'

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he looked at Hermione with a little bit of impatience in his gaze. Hermione did not relent to this; she merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

'As I just explained, Miss Weasley,' he explained, 'this is a time of crisis. We do not have the time to worry about events of the past beyond our control. We must move on from the past, and look to bringing ourselves a better future, a future without a constant threat of Voldemort's Death Eaters.'

'Exactly who are you trying to convince with your words, Albus?' she asked sadly.

'Convince of what?' asked Dumbledore, now irritated with Hermione.

'You don't see it for yourself?' she burst out incredulously, pointing a finger at Dumbledore. 'Did you not understand anything Harry told us back on Azkaban Island? He doesn't want our help! He doesn't want us, the ones who knowingly left him to die, to aid him in defeating Voldemort! He probably doesn't have a quarter of the strength that Voldemort has right now, and he doesn't even have his own wand anymore! As I recall, Fudge snapped it! Tell me, Albus, the answer to this: If Harry had not been proved innocent last week, would you ever have released him? And if you had not, how would we have won the war against Voldemort? According to you, the prophecy says only Harry can destroy him, and he can't do that when he's trying to fend off Dementors from driving him into insanity in a four by four cell in prison!'

She sat back down, looking furious. Dumbledore looked at her with equal fury. The rest of the Order members were looking from Dumbledore to Hermione, wondering what would happen next. If what Hermione had just said was true, then the entire war had been all but pointless up until now.

'What you say, while it is, of course, truthful,' began Dumbledore, 'has a flaw in it. You know as well as I that Harry is a noble person.'

'He didn't sound too willing to be noble back on Azkaban,' muttered Ronald darkly.

'That's enough, Mr Weasley,' said Dumbledore, holding his hand up for silence, and Ronald quieted down, his eyes narrowed. 'As I was saying, Harry would not leave innocent people to die. He was not that way as a child when he went to save Sirius Black from the Department of Mysteries, and he will not do so now. I am very confident of this. In the end, he will rush off to try and save everyone from dying. If he does this, he will lose, just like he lost when Sirius died. This is why we need him here. Not just for our benefit, but for his as well. We must mold him into the warrior he needs to be if he is to destroy Voldemort.'

The Order did not clap at his words, nor did they burst into excited tones. On the contrary, they sat silently, digesting Dumbledore's words.

'You're not serious, are you, Albus?' whispered Professor McGonagall, looking mortified. 'After everything you did to the boy all those years ago, you're going to expect him to forgive you just to attend to your personal agenda?'

'I did not say that!' said Dumbledore firmly, losing his patience now. 'I said that we must help him, and guide him, through these dark times.'

'And you don't think Severus Snape is capable of doing this?' yelled out Hestia Jones.

'Severus Snape is a lot of things,' said Dumbledore, 'but he is not the right person to guide Harry through a war, and I do not intend to let Harry be led by the man.'

'Let?' snapped Hermione. '_LET?_ You think you can decide for him?'

'If that is what it must come to, then yes, I do,' Dumbledore said calmly. 'We can not allow him to cross over to side against us, and because of Severus' betrayal, I am not positive that Severus is working against Voldemort any longer.'

'You – we – threw Harry to the Dementors, and yet you think that just because the means meet your ends, he'll work with you willingly?'

'I said nothing about this being about willing or unwilling.'

'So you're going to force him into helping you?' Lupin exclaimed angrily.

'I did not say that, either,' said Dumbledore calmly, trying to get everyone back in check and put things back under control.

'Then what did you say, Dumbledore?' snapped Lupin, getting to his feet. 'Did the storm that Harry caused with his _anger_ not show you that he doesn't want to have anything to do with us? Did it not occur to you that while you have your plans to defeat Voldemort, Harry might have his own to use to his own devices?'

Dumbledore did not answer immediately. The other Order members were looking at Lupin incredulously. Even Hermione looked at him with a look of mild surprise. After a minute, Dumbledore spoke again.

'I'm aware that Harry has information on Voldemort, Remus,' he said, looking at Lupin with a look of sorrow. 'That is, I'm afraid, the main reason why we need him.'

Lupin looked at him incredulously.

'I only said that in defense of Harry,' he snapped, looking at Dumbledore as though he were truly mad. 'What information could Harry possibly possess about Voldemort? He's been in Azkaban for nine years!'

'Have you forgotten about his scar, Remus?'

There was a collective gasp at these words. It sounded as though everyone had forgotten about Harry's infamous lightning-shaped scar. Lupin looked down, surprise etched in his face; he had forgotten all about this as well.

'I thought that was only because of Legilimency on Voldemort's part,' he said, not looking up.

'Legilimency plays a big part in this, Remus,' said Dumbledore, giving the man praise on figuring that part out, 'but it's a touch of Legilimency on both sides. Because Legilimency in general requires eye contact, the form that we are speaking of is because of the linking of the minds between Harry and Voldemort. Voldemort can look into Harry's mind to see what he is thinking, and Harry in turn can see visions of what Voldemort is doing, out of his eyes. In Harry's case, it's not so much of Legilimency, as he is not viewing Voldemort's memories, but his current actions. However, it is dangerous in both parts, as both can make counter-plans against the other if they witness each other's memories and thoughts.'

He looked directly at the rest of the Order.

'This is why we need Harry more than anything,' he said confidently to the group at large. 'If he has any possible information on plans that Voldemort is making, we must know of them if we are to fight back. This is why we need him back with us.'

'So, in short, you plan to use him?' said Ronald Weasley, finally speaking again.

'I prefer to think of it as a mutual alliance,' said Dumbledore coolly.

'Well, you're right,' said Alastor Moody gruffly, his magical eye fixed on Lupin, who had sat down again, looking saddened. 'The Potter boy needs to learn that –'

'He's not a boy, Alastor,' said Lupin, not bothering to look at the man.

'He's certainly not acting like a man, Lupin, so what would you call him?' Moody shot back.

'I'd call him more humane than the rest of us, Alastor,' he said exasperatedly, looking at Moody, who did not flinch in the slightest. 'We're back to this again. If you recall, Alastor, every one of us threw evidence against Harry that would have kept him in Azkaban for life had Mundungus' betrayal not come to light. We directly caused Harry's nine-year-long suffering with the Dementors. Tell me, are we human, knowing what we've done?'

'We've all faced Dementors, Lupin,' said Moody. 'He has to learn to get over it.'

Lupin finally lost his patience. He stood up, and in three quick strides, he stood in front of Moody and grabbed him by the front of his jacket, lifting him off the ground a little.

'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?' Moody shouted, his magical eye now spinning around like a whirling circle. 'PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!'

'_LISTEN TO ME, ALASTOR!_' shouted Lupin, and Moody calmed down, looking mutinous. 'We have faced the Dementors, yes, and the Dementors have made us feel cold and empty, as though our happiness is gone. We may hear things, but we are not otherwise affected, not intensely. In the meantime, Harry, when faced with even one Dementor, is faced with the horrors of his past all at once. Do you want to know what his horrors were? He remembers his parents, while they tried to fight off Voldemort. He remembers the Killing Curse, which would have killed him were it not for his mother's sacrifice. He remembers the Dursleys, who tormented and abused him in his own home for ten years. He remembers the night when Voldemort came back, as he watched his friend die. And of course, he remembers watching Sirius falling through the veil, never to return. And this is from one Dementor alone. Harry was faced with HORDES of Dementors day in and day out for nine years! He literally lived a nightmare by day and by night! Then we come after almost a decade, and we set him free after finding the real killer. We don't bother bringing anyone who helped defend him, and we even try to ask for his forgiveness. Now, after everything we did to him, do you really think he would ever forgive us for what we've sent him to? If I know him like I did ten years ago, I'd say he welcomed and wished for death in Azkaban every day of his nine year incarceration. So you'll have to forgive me, Alastor, if I don't think we are worthy of asking Harry for his forgiveness, or his help, and I am not foolish enough to think that he will ever give it to us.'

By now he had lost his breath, panting and gasping, but was still furious.

'Oh, and let's not forget that this also cost you, Alastor, the respect of someone who looked up to you as a hero. I am talking, of course, about Nymphadora Tonks.'

This struck home. The wizened man let himself fall limp at Lupin's words, and Lupin finally calmed down. He let Alastor down, nodded to everyone else in the room, and walked out the door of the office, slamming it behind him.

Nobody dared to breathe a word. Even Dumbledore, who had stood stock still throughout Lupin's speech, did not speak. After a few minutes, Hermione stood up, letting her cloak fall over her evening gown.

'Well, Headmaster, I think you have your answer there,' she said coldly. 'We've betrayed the man who was like family to almost all of us, and Harry Potter will never trust us again. If you'll excuse me, I've had enough of you wasting my time with empty promises and idle comments. I'll see you later on tonight, Ronald.'

She, too, left the office, using the fireplace's Floo network.

It was quiet for a few more minutes before Dumbledore finally spoke again.

'I think that will do for tonight,' he said, his tired voice only half-heartedly projecting authority as the leader. 'I will inform you when we have our next meeting. Have yourselves a good night, and I will see you sometime later this week.'

Everybody stood up and walked out of the office, still not speaking. It was quiet enough that you could drop the stirring rod of a Potion and hear it echo around the room. Finally, it was only Dumbledore and Ronald, who had waited at the doorway, left in the office. Dumbledore looked at Ronald, impatiently and half-heartedly inviting him to speak.

'Did you know that when he punched me back on the island,' Ronald said, fingering his cheek, 'it felt as though a small gust of wind had hit it? I could barely even feel it. Whatever he went through in Azkaban, I think Remus was right on the mark. Harry's been left in a severely weakened state if he can't even damage someone with a punch, let alone someone who was unguarded at said time. You might consider that when you try to manipulate him back to the Order a third time. Good night, Headmaster.'

With that, he walked out the door, presumably to his quarters for the remainder of the night.

Dumbledore, who now felt just as old as he looked, watched him leave, his eyebrows narrowed a bit in thought. He seemed to be considering something. Seemingly making up his mind, he walked over to the window overlooking the grounds, and stared out into the sky, not looking as though he saw anything he looked at.

'Fawkes, my old friend,' he said calmly, sounding old as well, 'we do have a problem on our hands, yes we do.' He stroked the feathers of his beloved partner, Fawkes the phoenix, who had just appeared beside him to comfort him. As they were bonded by mind, they knew what the other was thinking, and for the first time in a long while, Dumbledore was happy for this bit of convenience. It felt good to relieve his mind every now and then, and Pensieves don't always help with that.

'We have a long road ahead of us, Fawkes,' he said mysteriously, and the phoenix looked up at him with large, bright eyes. 'Though we have been battling for ten years already, I can sense that it will be a long, long time before this war is finally over.' He looked down at his phoenix and smiled. 'But that doesn't mean we're not going to keep on trying. If we cannot destroy the true source, Lord Voldemort, we can at least bring down his army, and soon enough, we can finish that. In time, Harry will realize that he needs to follow through on the prophecy and finally avenge his mother, father and godfather by bringing down the man who has pestered him for twenty-four years. He will come back to us.'

------------

_**August 21st, 2005...**_

Though it had only been about a week since Harry had been freed from prison, he felt more at home in Spinner's End than he had ever felt when he was at Hogwarts or The Burrow. It was an amazing feeling. Severus, who was no longer his mortal enemy but a powerful ally and friend, did not force him to do anything, but simply let him lie back and relax around his home. There were many books on different branches of magic in the rooms of Severus' home that Harry felt simply awed at them. More often than not, he was seen reading from a book of different kinds, like Charms and Transfiguration, but sometimes he was also seen reading up on Dark Magic.

When people questioned him on this, he merely dismissed their concerns with a shrug and a meaningful reply.

'Dark Magic is only as Dark as the person using it,' he'd say when someone asked him why he was studying it. 'Besides, if I'm to beat Voldemort, I have to understand the way he fights, and if he's anything like Granger, he's bound to have taken his form right out of a book; and even if he's not, I'll still know what to expect.'

Harry only referred to his past friends through reference now; he no longer outright talked about them. The others could understand why, but it still unnerved them, especially Fred and George. Though, everyone could understand why it bothered them, considering that their younger brother had been one of said friends. Harry didn't let it bother him, though; if he did, he didn't show it. He seemed quite content with the way things were now, and that was fine with him, meaning it was fine with everyone else as well.

Throughout the last week, Harry had gotten closer to Malfoy, Zabini, Daphne and Luna. He had always been close with Neville, and he was pleased to see that nine years had not affected this by much. The three Slytherins and Ravenclaw had proved to be on his side all of this time, and he was glad of this. He never asked what became of people like Crabbe, Pansy, Goyle, Millicent, and others like them. He probably knew the answer as it was.

Malfoy had explained to him earlier on that while he had been a willing participant of the whole blood feud (he would not deny this), he had not been as willing as countless others, and certainly not as much as his dear Death Eater father, Lucius Malfoy. He had only gone along with it because if he had not, he would not be here today. It was blend in with your crowd or die, just like with Voldemort's army, and Malfoy wanted to live for the time. Supporting Harry in court had given him a newfound respect for Harry, and Harry found that if Malfoy had survived for so long in an environment that would have killed him for believing otherwise, he must have been through nearly as much as Harry. He saw this as a reason for respect.

Zabini, surprisingly, had been neutral with the whole blood feud. During his time at Hogwarts, he had merely kept his opinions to himself and watched people fight from the sidelines, occasionally throwing in a few words during an argument or discussion. He had, however, adamantly believed in Harry's innocence, as did Daphne, his best friend at the time and his closest friend now.

Daphne had, on the whole, kept to herself during the feud on whether or not blood purity mattered. She did not actually believe that it mattered, but she did not answer people who asked her. She merely smiled and said nothing. Harry couldn't help but admire this, for the girl had surely made several enemies from simply not agreeing with them. Zabini's neutrality was one thing, but Daphne's indifference had simply been troublesome, and Harry was happy to call her an ally. She seemed to be quite happy to do likewise with him.

Luna and Neville were now married, though Luna still carried the name Lovegood, and they lived together just down the road in Spinner's End. They had eloped about three years after Harry had been imprisoned, since they had not liked the idea of having a wedding all planned out, only for Dumbledore or Voldemort to gatecrash it with their respective armies. Severus' house was quite full without them there, and with the Longbottom inheritance he had received on the day of his grandmother's death four years ago, Neville had bought a house and given it anything and everything he and Luna would ever need. Both had been outspoken in their beliefs from the very beginning, and Harry was proud to call them friends.

Tonks had been kicked out of the Order for her beliefs in Harry's innocence, and as such, she stayed in Spinner's End as well. As she and Malfoy were cousins, it was easy to get along with her reformed cousin and his friends. Severus, meanwhile, tended to stay off to himself, and he was usually found within the confines of his bedroom or his basement. Harry had recognized this in Hogwarts as well; he merely assumed that Severus was an independent person who kept to himself, and left it at that. After only just putting on the finishing touches to their unlikely but new friendship, Harry didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize this. He needed his friends and allies right now.

That morning, Harry went down into the kitchen early to make breakfast (something he had not forgotten how to do even after all this time), but was surprised by something. Reaching towards the table, he picked up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, which had a large picture of him on the front cover. He couldn't have been more than fifteen years old in this picture, as he still had that mop of hair he used to sport as a child. Underneath the picture, in big block letters, was the following:

'**BOY-WHO-LIVED, FREED, TURNS BACK ON WIZARDING WORLD!**'

_By: Rita Skeeter_

_Harry Potter, twenty-five, was recently found innocent of all charges laid on him from the time he was sixteen years old, now nine years ago. The charges were of the murders of Vernon Dursley and his family, including his sister, Margaret Dursley. It was recently discovered that one Mundungus Fletcher, previously known member of the Order of the Phoenix, was guilty of these crimes and therefore sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss as of two days ago, when a proper trial was held and Fletcher's guilt was proved. (For more information on Fletcher's capture and sentence, see page 4)_

_A group of people close to Potter, including his friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley, decided to kindly see him out of Azkaban on the day he was released. Long-retired Auror Alastor Moody was also part of this group, and Moody was the first person to physically see Potter. He described Potter's appearance as ragged but otherwise fine._

'_He certainly did not look half-dead to me,' said Moody during an interview. 'During the confrontation with the rest of the Order, he claimed that he had been left to face horrors unimaginable, but he certainly did not look like he had been tortured, as he claimed'_

_One would question Moody's credibility in this interview, as previous reports from the ex-Auror had been far from truthful due to his immense paranoia. We decided to gauge the statements out of the leader of the group who had gone to see Potter off, Albus Dumbledore._

'_Mr Potter did look quite unwell,' admitted the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, while stroking his beard gently. 'One look told us he had experienced a lot during his time in Azkaban, to the contradiction of ex-Auror Moody's claims. We were indeed very sorry to see what had happened to Mr Potter during his time of imprisonment.'_

_This reporter also asked what Potter thought about the condition of the world during his nine year absence, and what he would do to help repair it._

'_Ah, yes,' said Dumbledore to the crowd at large, 'that is a touchy point in this case. Mr Potter has expressed the firm belief that he will take no part in helping the world fight against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. His reasons, for the most part, are personal, but we of the Order of the Phoenix hope and pray that Mr Potter will find it in his heart to forgive those who did not help him in his time of need, and we can only hope that he will indeed assist those who need his help in these desperate times. As the Prophet has once truthfully said, he could be the only person capable of bringing down Lord Voldemort in the end.'_

_We at the Daily Prophet wonder what possible reasoning Potter could have to not help the world he resides in. Could it, quite possibly, be an act of revenge for the outcome of the trial? Could it be that he simply is not the hero everyone thinks he is? We think that Potter surely cannot have revenge as a key issue in his judgment. We pray that Potter does not hold the charges put on him so long ago against the world that loves him. We can only hope that Potter will come to his senses and help the wizarding world, the very same world that looks up to him as a hero and savior._

_(For more information on the case of Potter, see page 5)_

'You have got to be bloody kidding me,' snarled Harry in a loud voice, throwing the paper back down upon the table, with all thoughts of preparing breakfast forgotten.

He had expected this. He had even prepared himself for the inevitable. He did not, however, think that Dumbledore and his Order would sink down and outright lie to the world just because Harry wouldn't help them win their war. While he would not help the Order, he was certainly not going to let Voldemort live with his free reign forever. He didn't care what Alastor Moody said, as he had never cared what the man thought as it was, but it hurt to see what picture Dumbledore had painted of him to the rest of the world, even if he did hate the old man almost as much as he hated Voldemort.

_This is why I hate this bloody world,_ he snarled in his thoughts. _They'll hate me and cast me away one minute, and then turn around and make it seem like my bloody duty to help them the next minute. If I wasn't so against the thought, I'd wish that Voldemort would hurry up and finish them all off._

To top it off, Dumbledore had, as always, shifted the blame away from himself and his precious Order. Harry really wanted nothing more than to strangle the damned manipulative old man for his repeated interferences. _Course, I'd be thrown back in Azkaban for so much as voicing the thought out in public... which would further prove my point._

He looked up from the table to see Severus walking into the room, wearing a long black sleeping robe and looking exhausted.

'I heard you from upstairs,' he murmured, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 'What's the problem?'

'Take a look at this,' Harry snarled, picking up the article of the Prophet and throwing it at Severus, who caught it from midair and looked at it. Opening it completely, he scanned his eyes side to side as he read the article that Skeeter had written. His eyes narrowed with each line, and by the end of the article, he was furious.

'They can't do this,' he snapped, burning the paper with a flick of his wand. 'The Order can't just expect you to break your back for them after nine years of being without magic, which was _their_ fault to begin with.'

'They can, and they just did,' Harry replied, throwing himself into the chair and covering his eyes with his hands. 'Good, selfless old Albus Dumbledore has just painted a picture of me in a light where the general public, and the Ministry, will now be after my skin to save them from a world they've done nothing to fight against. I should have known being free of Dumbledore's control wouldn't last forever. He always has to find a way to slip back into power over me.'

'You are of age,' Severus pointed out.

'I was thrown in prison when I was sixteen,' said Harry in response. 'Besides, as far as they're concerned, I'm still a kid. All that boy-who-lived nonsense...'

'Yes, you are correct,' said Severus, who sat down now as well, facing Harry. 'Though, you will find that Dumbledore will have a hard time getting his control of you back in check.'

'What makes you say that?' asked Harry, looking up from his hands to stare at Severus; the latter man almost did a double-take at the green eyes he was looking into... they weren't the same anymore anyway...

'He is one of the main people who gave enough evidence to throw you into Azkaban in the first place, remember?'

'What difference is that going to make with Fudge as minister?' shot back Harry. 'Unless you're forgetting, ever since that little debacle between Fudge, Dumbledore and I in my fifth year, Fudge will agree with anything Dumbledore says, and will take my words with a scoop of horse crap. As long as I'm fighting for the side of light, Fudge doesn't care what I think.'

'You should petition against his authority, then,' commented Severus.

'Have I not just told you, Severus?' Harry groaned exasperatedly, looking away. 'Fudge doesn't give a damn what I think. How many times do I have to tell you?' He sounded impatient now, as though a nerve had been touched.

'I know that, you ridiculous boy,' snapped the ex-Professor with equal impatience. Harry almost chuckled at the familiarity of the Severus he now knew and the Severus he had known while at Hogwarts with that one statement. 'But I think you're forgetting something in all of this,' Severus continued.

'Which is what?'

'Your fame, Harry,' said Severus.

Harry looked at Severus in surprise, forgetting all about his impatience with the older man. His eyes narrowed a bit, and then he chuckled, to Severus' own surprise.

'Who are you and what have you done with the real Severus Snape?'

'What do you mean?' Severus asked, confused at Harry's words.

'You just did two things I've never heard you do before,' explained Harry, who sat up straighter in his chair now, facing Severus fully. 'The first was calling me by my first name, which was a bit of a surprise, but I've been expecting it for a while. The second was actually asking me to use my fame.'

Severus chuckled at Harry's words, now realizing the strangeness of previous words.

'Well,' he said, 'it should and would work. You don't seem to realize that your fame, though you and I both severely dislike it, is a large part of today's society in the United Kingdom. Many people look up to you, Harry. You can laugh,' he added, for Harry had snorted at those words, 'but it is true. It is simply the fact that modern society is easily misled by rumors and falsifications. Why do you think Lucius Malfoy was so successful in the Ministry of Magic? The minister was eating out of his hands, for Merlin's sake.'

He paused to allow Harry to swallow these words. They were starting to make sense to him now, and Severus was glad. The issue with Harry's fame was something they needed out of the way sooner rather than later, and using it to help Harry's public status only helped this cause in some ways.

'Anyway, if you were to use your fame to argue out against Dumbledore and Skeeter, and if you got a majority of the general public on your side, Fudge would have no choice but to listen to reason. Dumbledore may think he can simply manipulate you back under his thumb, but with the others and I at your side, the ones who have been at your side since this whole Azkaban issue has started, he has another thing coming. We'll see to his reign of power ending very, very soon. But before we deal with him, there's the matter with Voldemort.'

'You can say his name?' asked Harry, shocked by this.

'Of course I can. Everyone else in this group of ours can say Voldemort's name as well. Did you not realize this when neither of us flinched at your use of his name when Neville and I picked you up at the harbor?'

Harry thought back to this, and slowly remembered. He nodded. 'Yeah, I remember now.'

They heard footsteps coming from the hallway now, and they both turned to see Daphne Greengrass coming into the kitchen, wrapped up in a dressing gown and slippers, both a dark color. She rubbed her eyes and then looked tiredly at the table. Her eyes widened when she saw Harry and Severus already sitting there.

'Well, this is a surprise,' she said, blushing a little bit for reasons Harry and Severus did not know. 'You two are up early.'

'I've only been up for about ten or fifteen minutes,' said Severus, rubbing his eyes as well. 'Actually, Harry here woke me up.' Daphne looked at Harry questioningly.

'Oh,' he said, looking sheepish, 'I saw an article in the paper about me, and my reaction was apparently very loud. I've only been up for about twenty minutes now.'

'An article about you?' Daphne asked, looking a little irritated now. 'Was it about your position in the world at the present time?'

'Surprise, surprise, isn't it?' said Harry with a small wave of his hand, dismissing the issue. 'I know it was going to happen, and so did everyone else, so I suppose it's not a big deal. Though I didn't think Dumbledore was going to outright lie to the world and say that I plan on doing nothing to fight against Voldemort.'

'He said you planned on doing nothing?' Daphne asked incredulously.

'Exactly,' replied Harry.

'How can does he sleep at night, knowing he's outright lying to the rest of the world?' snapped Daphne, now not feeling so tired.

'Oh, that's not all,' said Harry with mock amusement, remembering back to the paper's article, and sneering at the thought. 'Before that, he went on about how he was sorry about what happened to me, and how I shouldn't let this affect my judgment or hold it against the world, and of course, he deflected the blame from himself.' He conjured a cup of water wandlessly, to everyone's surprise, and took a small sip. '"A group of people close to Potter decided to kindly see him out of Azkaban on the day he was released ... We were indeed very sorry to see what had happened to Mr Potter during his time of imprisonment..." I mean, come on, what a load of complete bollocks!'

'Skeeter's a woman who will twist her words for no other reason than to irritate and anger them, Harry,' said Daphne, seeing that Harry was about to enter a temper. 'And we both know you're too weakened right now to do much about it in a fight, so calm down.'

Harry felt himself calming down, and he sat still, the anger gone from his eyes.

'Thanks,' he muttered.

'Anytime,' she smiled.

Remembering why he had come down to the kitchen in the first place, Harry stood up and walked over to the kitchen area. Without a wand to assist him, Harry decided to make breakfast the non-magical way, as his wandless magic was very limited and he didn't want to risk it. So, when he took out a large sack of bacon and spread it over the pan, coupling it with eggs, he felt more than content to be able to do something, anything, to take his mind off of his thoughts, which clouded his mind and gave him an overly large headache.

The article in the paper still angered him. He honestly did not think that the Order of the Phoenix would stoop so low to try and get him back into their midst. He had a strong suspicion that Moody had played a large part in it, despite the delusions he had stated in the article, and his hatred for Moody dug even deeper. If the wizened man had not become so paranoid that he could predict almost any outcome, Harry would be tempted to attack him the Muggle way out of rage. He didn't care what Moody said about him, but that didn't mean he liked it.

Pushing all thoughts of Moody and the Order out of his mind, and using Occlumency to seal them out temporarily, Harry whistled a bit while he cooked the breakfast. Half an hour later, the bacon and eggs were done, and he was finishing up the sausages. As busy as he was, he did not notice that the room was filled with everyone who lived in Severus' house.

'He's a good cook,' commented Tonks, whose stomach was rumbling loudly.

'Yes, the smell is rather nice,' said Luna dreamily, who had arrived with Neville shortly before. 'I wonder how he is so good at cooking when he's been in prison for almost a third of his life.'

'He cooked all the time when he lived with the D- those Muggles,' said Severus evenly, watching Harry cook.

'How did you know that?' asked Fred, who had learned about this piece of information through their now ex-communicated brother, Ronald.

'Yeah, I mean, Fred and I know that, but how did you know, Severus?' George added.

'When I was helping Harry learn to use Occlumency, almost ten years ago,' said Severus, 'I saw a lot of his memories. Most of them were of the Muggles he lived with. I knew that he cooked, cleaned, and labored for them, and that's why I knew that he could never have killed them. They are, more than likely, the only people he was ever scared of, and I'm including Voldemort in this.

'As well, he had only saved his cousin the previous year from the Dementor's Kiss.'

'He saved his cousin's soul?' said Draco in shock, eyeing Harry with a strange look in his eye.

'Indeed,' replied Severus, not bothering to look away from Harry, who had just put the finishing touches on breakfast. He seemed to be duplicating it wandlessly, and Severus wondered how this was possible.

_Had he practiced magic at all when he was alone in Azkaban? Surely he could not have, but it might be possible..._

'Breakfast is ready,' called out Harry, who was apparently under the impression that most of the house was still asleep. He turned around, and finally noticed everyone in the group sitting at the table. He blushed a bit.

'I see the scent of my waffles woke you up,' he said with a bit of amusement in his voice.

'No, it was definitely the bacon, mate,' said Fred and George together, and everyone else, including Harry, laughed appreciatively.

'Well, I made your breakfast, people,' said Harry to the group at large, 'so you can come here and get it yourselves.' And with that, he grabbed the plate he had made for himself and walked over to the table, where everyone was rising, intent on getting the plate and getting back to their spot first.

The rest of the morning went by rather uneventfully. The others had been told about the article in the _Daily Prophet_, and their reactions had been similar to those of Severus and Daphne. Fred and George had ranted about it with their twin bond powers for a little while (they actually went over each other's sentences, much to everyone's surprise, irritation and amusement) but otherwise, everyone reacted better than Harry would have thought.

The twins were no longer running a business with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but they had kept most of the products they had made and duplicated them with a bit of complex magic they had learned at Hogwarts, so that when they showed off some of their stuff, the others were amazed. Looking back, Harry was glad he had given his Triwizard Tournament winnings to the twins. They had done really well with the Galleons he had given them.

That was something else he had to do, too. He needed to go see the goblins about his vaults. Now that he was an adult, he needed the money to go with it. His trust vault was more than likely gone, confiscated upon his imprisonment, but his family vaults could not be banned, or confiscated, to those they did not belong to. The goblins would be of great assistance in aiding him; he had not been to Gringotts in many years now. And while he was on the subject of money, he realized something else. He had not received a pardon from the Ministry, nor a sum of money in compensation for nine years of hell he did not deserve. He could care less about the money; what he wanted was to see Fudge pay for his mistakes, and if he could bring down Dumbledore at the same time, it would be all the better.

He still needed a wand. He really wished he had one. It would have helped him get back into strength much more quickly. He had tried working out the Muggle way, but nine years of sitting in a cell doing nothing had left him unable to attempt such efforts. He didn't even know why he had gotten taller in that cell; surely the malnourishment would have stunted his growth, wouldn't it? He supposed it was his magic pushing him to grow with it. It did not make sense even to him, but he supposed it would come in handy someday, and if it didn't, it wasn't a big deal to him. He was still as scrawny as before anyway.

He stood up from his spot on the couch, marking the spot where he had stopped reading his book. Quickly tying back his upper arm-length hair, he pulled a cloak over his head and walked towards the door. Severus watched him leave.

'Where are you off to, Harry?' asked Tonks.

'Gringotts,' he replied dismissively. 'I need a wand, and before I get it, I need money to pay for it. I'll go to Gringotts and take out some money.'

'Wasn't your account confiscated and stripped?' she asked, remembering that prisoners always lost their accounts at Gringotts; it was the human influence over Gringotts that allowed this.

'Not the Potter family vault,' he reminded her.

Tonks nearly slapped herself on the forehead for forgetting this. She was an ex-Auror; she should have been able to remember it. 'You're right. But all the same, I think I'll come with you, Harry.'

'Whatever for?' asked Harry?

'Well, I want to see your family vault,' she said evenly, and Harry chuckled at her curiosity, 'but moreover, I haven't checked mine in a while, and I may need new robes. I think I'll take some money out, too.'

'Oh, super,' muttered Harry under his breath teasingly. 'Four trips in that absurdly fast cart instead of two.' Tonks heard this and playfully smacked him on the arm.

'Don't be whining,' she scolded gently. 'Now come on, let's get going.'

The two walked out the door and Disapparated to Diagon Alley.

------------

Diagon Alley had changed a lot. When Harry had seen it ten years ago, just before his fifth year, it had been a bustling street filled with business and people and potential shoppers galore. It had literally been one of the busiest wizarding spots in the wizarding world.

Now, however, it was almost unrecognizable.

As Harry and Tonks walked through it, sticking close to each other lest someone bothered them about the article, they noticed that the main street was nearly empty. There were a few wizards and witches here and there who would walk by with their hoods covering their faces, but otherwise nobody was around. A lot of shops were boarded up, presumably deemed unworthy of staying in business, and many others shops had been destroyed, or showed signs of battle damage.

_This must be one of the main spots the Order and the Death Eaters duke it out,_ Harry thought to himself with indifference.

Two people who walked by without hoods covering them looked at Tonks strangely, but when they saw Harry, their expressions turned into awe and they ran off, shrieking with what sounded to Harry like a mixture of awe and fright. He pushed it out of his head in annoyance and kept walking, Tonks hanging off of his arm. He didn't complain; it might actually help keep people away from him. He hoped it would.

Gringotts was just up ahead now. As they walked, they noticed that the battle damage and the destruction were all becoming clearer with each step they took to get closer to the marble white building. _Either Dumbledore does some amazing illusionary spells, or there was one heck of a battle in this area,_ Harry mused. He didn't honestly care; it was not his business anymore anyway. Without a wand, he couldn't do much about the situation, whether the Ministry liked it or not. _Besides, Fudge was the one who snapped my wand, knowing full well that people thought me to be the only one able to destroy Voldemort. Let the lazy man solve his own damn problems for a damn change._

They were now standing in front of the wizarding bank. Two guard goblins were standing on either side of the large doorway. One of them stopped Harry and Tonks.

'State your name and case, sir and madam,' said the goblin to the right. He held a long glowing red rod in his hand. _Must be a security item to make sure we're honest with them. Not like I have anything to hide anyway, so I might as well._

'I am Harry Potter, and this lovely lady with me is Nymphadora Tonks,' said Harry calmly, and his scar became all the more visible to the goblins at Harry's words. 'We are here to withdraw money from our respective accounts.'

The goblin nodded and moved his glowing stick over Harry's body. Nothing happened. The goblin nodded again, and said, 'You are telling the truth. You are indeed Harry Potter. You may enter.'

The second goblin ran his red stick over Tonks' skinny body, and again, nothing happened. 'You are indeed Nymphadora Tonks. You may enter as well.'

Harry nodded, while Tonks reattached herself to his arm, and they entered the bank, walking along the long hallway.

'What was all that about?' Harry thought aloud.

'It's a new security issue,' replied Tonks, looking unconcerned. 'It's been around since Voldemort tried to take over Gringotts back in '99. Needless to say, his attempt failed, and he has not made one ever since. They beefed up security, and now people have to prove their identities before they enter the building, and face time in Azkaban should they lie, or turn up negative on the scanners the goblins use. Those are the glowing rods.'

'Sounds like a smart plan,' mused Harry. Tonks merely smiled and clutched his arm tighter.

They walked up to the main counter, where a short, black-eyed goblin was sitting, counting interest or Galleons of some kind. Something about the goblin seemed familiar to Harry. It wasn't until he saw the pointed beard covering the chin and matched it with the black eyes that Harry realized he had met this goblin once before.

'Lord Griphook,' Harry recited, bowing low.

The goblin looked up at him, surprise etched in its face.

'You know my name, wizard?' Griphook asked incredulously. 'You can remember the name of a goblin, a member of a race that means little to wizard kind?'

'You'll find that I'm no longer considered a member of wizard kind, Lord Griphook,' said Harry, and his scar seemed to fade into existence on his forehead. It was a neat little spell that Severus had come up with not long after Harry had been released. All Harry had to do was want his scar to appear, and it would appear. If he willed it to disappear, it would do so. It was actually only concealed, but to Harry, that meant enough.

Griphook's eyes, which were small and beady, grew large.

"If it isn't young Harry Potter,' Griphook said, bowing as well. 'You are well-liked among goblins, Mr Potter. I had heard about your recent release from Azkaban. I am glad you are all right, Mr Potter. What may I do for you today?'

'I have to make a withdrawal, my Lord,' said Harry, bowing his head. 'Young Nymphadora here does, too.' The goblin nodded and took their keys from them; it was Neville who had found Harry's and given it to him when he had been released.

'Don't call me that,' Tonks hissed.

'Sure thing, Nymmy,' Harry said, smirking and earning him another blow to the shoulder. 'You're really abusive today, aren't you, Tonks?' She stuck her tongue out at him. Griphook coughed a false cough and both sobered up.

'Thank you,' said Griphook, a faint trace of amusement in his tone. 'Now, we move on to the matter of your vaults. Mr Potter, it says here that your trust vault was essentially dissolved, its money confiscated, when you were sent to Azkaban.'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'I thought I was going to get it back upon my release?'

'Once an account is dissolved, it cannot be replaced,' said Griphook with regret, 'so you will not be able to access it. Fortunately, and as you probably know, your family vault remains untouched. It has gained much interest over the years, and as you are now long since of adult age, you are able to access its full contents.'

'Isn't it just money in there?' asked Harry in confusion.

'Oh, no, no,' said Griphook, surprised at this. He looked at Harry incredulously. 'There's a large sum of money in there, yes, but there are also other things, such as your parents' will, a large collection of books that belonged to the Potter family from over the years, and if I am not mistaken, a very special staff that belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself.'

'What?' asked Harry, surprised at this startling piece of news. 'Why is that?'

'Mr Potter, were you never told that you descended from both the family line of Potter and the family line of Gryffindor?'

'You mean I'm a descendent of Godric Gryffindor?' asked Harry in shock; he was experiencing far too many surprises today as far as he was concerned.

'Yes, Mr Potter, you are indeed,' said Griphook. 'Lord Gryffindor's great-great-granddaughter, Selena Gryffindor, married a man named Harold Potter, and from then on, the Potter family has always produced one son in each generation. Your father, James Potter, was also an only child; this is why.'

'Wow,' breathed Tonks. 'I'm standing here, clutching the arm of the heir of Godric Gryffindor.'

'But I thought the object that belonged to Gryffindor was a sword?' said Harry, remembering how he had pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat twelve years before. 'You mean to tell me that he had more than one ancestral object?'

'He did indeed,' said Griphook, 'and you're about to see it. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, Mr Potter, Miss Tonks, we will enter your respective vaults.'

They both climbed into the cart that they knew would one day kill them and waited. Griphook climbed in a moment later and started up the cart, and fifteen seconds later, they were plummeting through the undergrounds of London...or what they thought was London. They were never sure.

When the cart finally stopped in front of vault eight hundred nineteen, Tonks dragged herself out and sighed with relief. 'That was rough,' she exclaimed before falling onto the floor. Harry laughed and pulled her to her feet, wincing at how hard it was. He really needed to get stronger, as he and everyone else kept telling him; his years in Azkaban had left him weaker than he had been before.

Griphook led them to the front of the vault, which was an enormous stone door. A small marking was engraved on the door. Griphook pointed at it, wincing as he spoke.

'You must place your hand on that stone marking, Mr Potter,' said Griphook. 'It will determine whether you are actually Harry Potter and not a disguised person that eluded the guards outside of the building.'

'Of course, Lord Griphook,' said Harry respectfully, walking forward. He raised his left hand and placed his palm against the door.

He regretted it at once. Everything began to shake, and the marking seemed to absorb his flesh so that he could not pull away his hand. Visibly frightened, he grabbed it with his other hand and tried to pull away. The stone door seemed to be moving where it stood.

'Mr Potter, please relax!' shouted Griphook over the noise. 'This is the only way the door will open, and the ritual must be completed!'

Harry complied at once, and twenty seconds later, his hand was released, and he pulled away gratefully.

The door seemed to be corroding. Starting from the top, it was vanishing into particles before their eyes, and slowly but surely, the door vanished bit by bit, until a large opening appeared where the door had once been. What stood beyond seemed to Harry like a second Hogwarts, without the walls.

The vault was humongous. Easily one or two square miles, it was a large vault sectioned off with different areas. Harry could swear he could see a miniature library in the distance, and everywhere else he looked, he could see mountains of gold and silver. It was an incredible sight, even for Harry, who had never cared much about his money.

Another rumbling noise sounded out, and after they had crossed the threshold, the door faded back into existence the same way it had disappeared.

'Do not worry, Mr Potter, the door will open again when you are ready to leave,' said the goblin dismissively.

Harry nodded. He was far too distracted by the mere sight of the vault to worry about leaving yet. He walked up the aisles that were clear of money, towards a spot with a large glass box standing up against the wall. A long, ancient-looking yet powerful-looking stick was held in it.

'That is Lord Gryffindor's staff,' said Griphook, who had followed behind Harry. 'It is a staff of immense power. It is said to have rivaled Salazar Slytherin's prized rod.'

'Slytherin owned a rod?' said Harry, not taking his eyes off of the powerful staff before him.

'Yes, he did,' replied Griphook with a dismissive shrug. 'No one has seen it in about sixty years now as it is, so it has long since been lost.'

Harry nodded, filing this information away for later use. He walked back down the aisle and took a right this time, heading for the library. It took a few minutes, but he reached it. His jaw dropped in shock.

The library was bigger than he had first thought. There were thirteen bookcases, each at least twenty feet high and filled with books of all kinds. The bookcases were labeled with different subjects, and Harry knew he'd be spending a lot of time here, unless he brought the books with him. There were a lot of books on defenses against the Dark Arts.

'Incredible,' he muttered under his breath in awe.

Something then caught his eye. He walked over to one of the three tables, where a long, old-looking parchment lay across the table's surface. He bent over to read the title.

_The Last Will and Testament of Lily and James Potter_

'Tonks, Lord Griphook, come here for a minute!' shouted Harry, not taking his eyes off of the scroll for anything. 'I found it. This is my parents' will.'

Griphook reached him first. Nodding politely, he took the scroll and read through it, nodding in some places and smiling in others. After a minute, he handed it back, grinning.

'It is as we thought, Mr Potter,' said Griphook. 'Your parents left you with everything they owned in finances and possessions.'

Harry's jaw dropped again. This was all his? Everything lying within this vault belonged to him? It didn't seem possible. It didn't seem right. And yet, he knew that it was true. He knew that everything here actually belonged to him.

'I can't keep all of this,' said Harry.

'This isn't all, Mr Potter,' said Griphook, grimacing a bit at the incredulous look Harry gave him. 'You still have the compensation pay from the Ministry of Magic to look into. We will be the ones to give you the money, but you must go to the Ministry to remind them. While it should have been released a day or two after your release, they seem to be running late.'

_Gee, I wonder why that is,_ thought Harry snidely.

'Everything in this vault is yours, Mr Potter,' Griphook continued. 'This means you can take anything out, even the highest amounts of financial support.'

'No, I won't need that much money until I have children,' said Harry, thinking for a moment. 'I think I'll take some books, though. I don't think I'll need anything else but some money, maybe a hundred Galleons, and a few books.'

'What about the staff, Harry?' asked Tonks.

'There's no way in Merlin's holy name that I'm letting that out of the safety of my vault,' said Harry forcefully, shaking his head. 'Not with people like Dumbledore and his Order trying to manipulate me again. No, I'm leaving it here, where no one can get their hands on it. But there is something else that belongs to me that I want back.'

He turned to address Griphook.

'Lord Griphook, sire, where might I find the sword of Gryffindor?'

The goblin blinked, trying to remember.

'I believe it was last known to be within the confines of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' he replied evenly.

'Might I be able to retrieve it without actually going to the school?' asked Harry.

'Of course, Mr Potter, of course,' said Griphook. 'We pride ourselves in the confidence of our clients.' Griphook snapped his fingers, and the bloodied sword of Godric Gryffindor appeared before Harry, gently floating in midair on level with Harry's head. Harry reached out and took the sword by the handle.

It was as though he had been reunited with an old friend. Power seemed to flood into him through the sword, and he knew that the sword was giving him energy. _It must only work when you're of age,_ he thought. _It certainly did nothing like this when I fought the Basilisk back in second year._

Griphook conjured a long sheathe to hold the sword, and Harry fastened the conjured sheathe to his belt, sticking the sword within it. The feeling of power disappeared as he did, and Harry felt the same as he did before. _It must only be when I'm holding the sword. It'll be useful in battle if that's the case._

Quickly scooping up an average-sized pile of Galleons and sticking them into a sack, Harry motioned to Tonks that he was done at his vault. Tonks nodded, and both informed Griphook, who led them out. The door appeared behind them, awaiting the next time Harry would come.

As they sped through the mines, Harry's thoughts wandered to his parents. _What would they think of me now? How would they react to the others, who left me to die in prison? How would Dad react to Severus being the only fatherly figure I have left? Would they be ashamed of me for turning my back on the world? Or would they support me because of the world turning its back on me?_

Harry was so lost in thought that he did not notice the stop in front of vault eleven hundred fifty-three, the Tonks' vault. Getting out, Harry watched Tonks open the door the same way he had opened his, only the door had opened the regular way instead of dissolving. The vault itself was quite a bit smaller, but it had a very sizable amount of gold. Tonks grinned at Harry's questioning look and explained that Sirius had left Tonks and her mother a large portion of gold while leaving Harry and Lupin with everything else. Harry then realized that this could mean that Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was his to keep.

As they shot back through the underground into the main lobby, Harry let his thoughts stray around again. He wished Sirius was still with him. He was still not convinced that Sirius was dead, but he could not do anything to see about it until he had a wand to use. Such was the uselessness he felt that he did not notice when he bumped into someone else who was walking towards the counter, sending both men to the ground.

Harry stood up, and was about to help the other man up when he noticed the red hair. They very, very familiar red hair; the red hair he had grown to loathe. As he looked up, he noticed a mane of brown hair to go with it, and his eyes darkened considerably.

'Hello, Ronald, Hermione,' he said, his voice lowered into a dark tone as he stared at his two former best friends, Tonks clutching his arm.

------------

Cliffhanger! Sorry, but if I had continued, I would have carried on for too long, and I don't want that. Again, sorry! But good news is that it won't take all that long to update, maybe five or six days at maximum.

As always, read and review! I always enjoy receiving feedback, positive and negative.


	4. Chapter 3: The Forged Wand

Author's Note: The following will be in Italics: Parseltongue, thoughts, flashbacks, letters, spells and dreams. Anything else incorporated with Italics will be duly mentioned.

Disclaimer: This world is not mine, and neither are its characters or spells, unless made up on the spot – these will be mentioned as stated. JKR owns this world, not me.

Full Summary: Harry Potter was accused of the murders of his relatives, and thrown into Azkaban. Nine years later, he was released. With the threat of Voldemort looming over the world, can Harry put aside his differences and save the world from Voldemort for good? SlightlyDarkHarry, eventual HPDG.

**Chapter Three: The Forged Wand**

Harry merely looked at them, waiting for an answer that would most likely not come for several hours if the two before him didn't close their mouths really soon. The way their mouths had dropped to the floor had slightly disgusted Harry at first because of the added drool, but now it was just downright annoying.

Tapping his foot impatiently, he looked at them, his eyes darkened and cold in look. In reality, he was severely pissed off now. He had not really had time to get over the betrayal of his two former best friends up to this point, being content with not approaching the subject, so at this moment he had no idea what he was supposed to do or feel. Anger or hatred, perhaps; he was not sure, and at this moment he did not care.

'Are you going to say something?' he said, finally losing his patience. 'Your mouths are hanging open enough that you could speak two words at once. It's rather disgusting.'

Both Ronald and Hermione closed their mouths immediately, looking self-disgusted themselves. Harry hid his smirk behind a look of cold indifference. They were in his way, and he did not want to have this confrontation right now. He still had the matter of getting his wand, and right now, the importance of this seemed to double for him.

'You look as though you have Silencing Charms on you,' said Tonks, who was still clutching Harry's arm, with equal coldness in her voice. Harry almost betrayed a look of surprise; he didn't know of any conflicts Tonks had that directly involved these two. She flicked her auburn hair out of her eyes, and said, 'We're waiting for you to speak.'

Ronald gulped visibly. He looked scared. Hermione, on the other hand, looked distressed from head to toe. Neither of the two looked as though they were looking forward to the confrontation that was about to take place. Harry had lost his patience, and he was now getting angry. He did not come back out into public to deal with this kind of thing.

'All right, then, have it your way,' he said, leading Tonks past them. 'Your silence doesn't speak words, and I don't think I'd want to hear them even if it did.'

He had walked five feet when Ronald spoke.

'Harry, wait –'

Harry spun around, looking Ronald straight in the eye.

'Did you not hear what I said to Headmaster Dumbledore about this issue, back on Azkaban Island?' he spat, putting emphasis into the word 'Azkaban'; Ronald gulped again. 'You have no right to call me by name anymore. You'll forgive me for making the mistake of going against that a minute ago. I'll try again: Hello, Mr and Miss Weasley.'

Tonks chuckled a bit, her tone humorless.

'I-I'm sorry, Mr Potter,' said Ronald, resigning himself to the inevitable. 'It was a ridiculous mistake on my part, and I apologize for it.'

'Accepted,' said Harry coldly, 'now continue with whatever it was you were going to say.' Though he was still very skinny and not quite as tall as Ronald, he was still very menacing in Ronald's eyes. The dead look in the green orbs that looked back at him was not a comforting thing, either.

'It isn't right of me to ask it,' Ronald began, looking more frightened than ever, yet determined, 'and it's even selfish of me to do so, but I ask for your forgiveness.'

Harry laughed tonelessly.

'Denied,' he said without hesitation.

Hermione whimpered, and Harry looked at her, as though daring her to speak. She looked back with less fright in her eyes than her husband, though she was nonetheless scared.

'Mr Potter, please,' she said, in a slightly begging voice, 'please let us redeem ourselves. What we did to you in your time of need was wrong, and we ask of you to let us make it up to you in any way possible.'

'There's only one possible way for you to make things up with me,' said Harry. 'And that's by simply staying the hell away from me, Miss Weasley.'

Hermione's lip quivered and she looked almost ready to faint on the spot. Harry looked at her with no comfort or condolence in his eyes; his sunken green eyes betrayed nothing but loathing and anger towards the woman before him that had betrayed him so severely.

'We ask that you reconsider,' said Ronald.

'How many times do I have to say 'no' before you get the idea?' shot back Harry. 'I explained myself quite clearly back on the island. What you did to me was too harsh a betrayal. I have no reason within me to forgive you.'

'We-We were the best of friends, remember?' Ronald pleaded.

Harry laughed again.

'That's even more of a reason for me to deny you any possible forgiveness, Weasley,' he snapped, lack of patience now betraying his indifferent tone. 'You are correct: we WERE the best of friends. It went so far that I even considered you a brother to me. And look what happened after that. You turned your back on me at the drop of a hat.'

His eyes were practically sneering at Ronald.

'Do you know what our friendship was like, Weasley, now that I can see all of it without bias in my memories? When we first met, you treated me like the celebrity in me that I always loathed. You asked to see my scar. You asked what beating Voldemort was like. You even went so far as to make up my mind for me on what school house I wanted because I knew nothing about them at the time.' He was now letting his anger out again, and for some reason, Ronald found that he could not move any part of his body aside from his eyes, which were slowly widening. Hermione found that she had the same problem. Neither could speak, either. Harry didn't seem to be doing anything but speaking, however; no magic radiated from him. Perhaps they were only petrified with fright? 'Did you know that the Sorting Hat's only reason for not putting me in Slytherin was because I begged for it to put me anywhere else? I would have ended up in the house where I most belonged if it weren't for you. Then your laziness began to rub off on me, as you forced it to. I found that I was only doing the bare minimum to keep myself in the passing range, and the only reason I could ever think of was you. But of course, we were best mates, so why would I change that for something like marks?

'But let's fast-forward about three years, because I could go on about that particular issue for hours. Remember the Triwizard Tournament, Weasley? The very same tournament that I told you I had no interest in? Let's remember, we were already three years or so into our friendship, and at this point, we were practically brothers. You heard about the tournament and assumed that I'd want to be part of it, even though you knew that I hated fame and fortune. Then, when my name appeared in the Goblet of Fire, you just jumped to conclusions thinking that I went and put it in anyway, and for over a month, you loathed the mere sight of me. It took me being faced off with a DRAGON before you saw the oh-so-shocking truth that I wanted nothing to do with it. And of course, you threw the issue of money, a thousand Galleons as I recall, into this as well.

'Do you see it now, Weasley? Do you see why I won't offer you the chance of forgiveness? Your jealousy of me has always been a block in our friendship, and I'm betting that's part of why you went so far as to testify against me during the trial. I was nothing but the Boy-Who-Lived, who always overshadowed you, always outshined you. And if I was in prison, your time to shine would come at last. Well, congratulations, Weasley. Your moment came, and now you're certainly making the best of that moment. And I, for one, am not going to stand in the way of that.'

He finished his ranting speech, his breath haggard, and he continued to glare at Ronald, who now looked ashamed as well as determined. _Good. He deserves to be ashamed._

'You have nothing to say about me?' asked Hermione, who was standing a good foot from Ronald right now. Harry merely sneered.

'There's only one real thing I can say about you, Granger,' he said, 'and it's this: I always knew that your need to always have all the facts, and always, in essentials, be right about everything, would get in the way of our friendship someday. Never mind the fact that I saved you from a troll, even when dear Ronnikins was reluctant to do so. I just didn't think it would end up with me being shipped off to Azkaban.'

Hermione burst into tears, and Ronald moved towards her, rubbing her back. He turned to Harry, an angry look in his eyes now.

'Do you really need to lay into us this much, Potter?' he asked, his anger clouding his judgment, which was more than likely telling him to take off in the other direction before he got incinerated. 'Haven't you said enough yet?'

Sure enough, if looks could kill, he'd have spontaneously combusted moments before.

'I'm only telling her what she already knows, Weasley,' he said with no comfort in his voice, which made Hermione cry harder. 'I'm willing to bet that neither of you have faced up to this part of your past in recent years, so why should I care how you take it? If you have a problem with facing the past, you shouldn't have created that certain part of the past to begin with.'

He looked at Tonks, who had been standing quite still, watching the confrontation silently, and motioned for her that they were leaving, which she nodded to without taking her eyes off of the scene. She had known that none of this was her business, and that as such, she would not cut in. Harry was grateful for this.

'You know what the funny thing is, though, Weasleys?' he said as he turned to leave. Both of them looked at him. 'Draco Malfoy and his friends saw the truth a lot better than you did, and he was supposed to be my enemy. I guess that proves what I said about Slytherin, doesn't it?'

He turned around, ignoring the combined looks of shock on Ronald and Hermione's faces, and walked towards the main doors of the building, Tonks clinging to him.

'That just proves that you're a traitor, then, Potter!' Ronald yelled from behind them. Harry didn't even bother turning around when he answered.

'I'm only considered a traitor because of the wizarding world, and everyone I cared about, turning their backs on me, Weasley,' he yelled back as he walked away. 'And just for the record, I have no intention of being thrown into the frontlines of the war by people I refuse to work with. Until the next time we meet, then, old friend,' he finished as he walked out the front doors, leaving in his wake two broken people who did not know where they would go from there.

------------

'You're quite angry right now,' commented Tonks ten minutes later.

They had just walked out of Gringotts and headed for the apothecary, where they had gotten some potion supplies to surprise Severus with, and had walked from there to the area where Ollivander's stood. Harry had decided then and there that he would not have anymore interruptions, and when he had recognized a former dorm mate, Seamus Finnigan, coming up to him to apologize, he merely punched his former friend in the face without looking and kept walking. Tonks had decided then that she needed to say something.

'Yeah, well, he also thought I was guilty,' said Harry without looking at her. 'Almost everyone I've ever known did. I still wonder why you didn't, even though I'm glad you didn't.'

'You were only a kid when I met you,' replied Tonks evenly. 'A kid who had seen and done a lot of horrifying things, but a kid nonetheless. That's not even mentioning that you looked as though you were half the size of most kids your age. You still do to this day. I knew that you could never hate someone enough to actually kill them.'

Harry looked at her funnily.

'At that time,' she added, and Harry snorted and looked away.

'I probably couldn't kill right now even if I wanted to,' he muttered, shaking his head a bit. 'Even though I'm supposedly one man against the wizarding world as a whole, I'm still the same old twig I used to be.'

Tonks laughed.

'We'll get you back to normal, don't worry,' she said.

'I wouldn't bother,' said Harry in a mock snidely tone. 'I am, always have been, and always will be, a very skinny person, and that won't change. I don't mind it as much as I used to. Now, let's see about that wand.'

They had arrived in front of Ollivander's, and Harry pushed the door open, letting Tonks enter first in a mock gentlemanly way. Tonks grinned at him and entered, and Harry followed in step behind her.

The small place that had been the first wizarding store Harry had ever been in looked the same as it had looked fourteen years before. The shelves were filled to the brim with wand cases, and a large ladder stood up in front of one of them, tall enough to reach the top. The shop itself was empty of people, and Harry wondered where Ollivander was.

'Hello?' he called out. 'Are you here, sir?'

Footsteps were heard from the back of the store, and the one making them was approaching the counter. A moment later, Ollivander the wandmaker walked into view, using a waist-high cane for support. Any ill feeling Harry might have had for the man was instantly dispelled. Ollivander looked at the two before him with surprise.

'Why, Mr Potter,' he said, his tone as surprised as his look, though still surprisingly weak. 'It certainly is an unexpected honor to see you here. I must ask what business you have, though; I'm confident you received your wand fourteen years ago, when you first came here. Holly and phoenix, eleven inches, I believe.'

'Yes, indeed, sir,' said Harry respectfully; he had no grudges against Ollivander, 'but I'm afraid it was snapped when I was imprisoned by Cornelius Fudge, a little less than nine years ago.'

Ollivander nodded, as though he had expected this; Harry often wondered about the man's sanity. Not one minute ago, he had looked surprised to see Harry.

'A shame, a true shame,' said the old man, bowing his head. 'It was a powerful wand, and one of much unique character, but it did live a good life before it was broken. I understand that you went on many adventures with that wand, Mr Potter.'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, remembering all too well the many different things he had done every year at Hogwarts; it only reminded him of his anger at Dumbledore, so he pushed his thoughts on this down, trying not to think about them.

'I was wondering, sir,' he began again, 'if it was possible to make another wand that would work as well as the holly and phoenix wand had?'

Ollivander merely stared at Harry, looking thoughtful, almost impressed.

'A deep question, Mr Potter,' he commented. 'Nevertheless, not a question that I cannot answer. While this wand you speak of would not be as powerful as the holly and phoenix wand you once possessed by any means, it is indeed possible to find one that can suit you. In fact, there is an even better way. If I were to gain access to the source that I used the previous time, or a source that best suits your body right now, I could forge one for you.'

'What do you mean by one that best suits my body?' asked Harry.

'Well, the phoenix wand was a wand that was connected to you because of your connection to He Who Must Not Be Named,' said Ollivander, leaning on his cane a little more. 'However, it was not in your bloodline, and we never examined your bloodline, so we do not know what lies within it. If I were to get a sample of your blood – no more than three drops, of course – I could see what I would need.'

'That's no problem,' said Harry, now smiling. 'Will you provide the knife, Tonks?'

Tonks nodded and waved her wand, and a small silver knife appeared in her hand. She handed it to Harry immediately, and Harry, in turn, placed it in a position directly over his palm.

'Let the sample drip into this bottle, Mr Potter,' said Ollivander, producing a small bottle and sticking it underneath Harry's hand. Harry took the knife and pricked his palm, then turned it over and let a few drops fall into the bottle. With a wave of his wand, Ollivander healed the cut before it could bleed, and then he took the bottle and corked it, turning around to walk to the back of the store.

'Please, follow me, Mr Potter, Miss Tonks,' said Ollivander, motioning for them to follow.

As they followed Ollivander, they only noticed then how big the store actually was. There were more shelves filled with wand cases than they had ever thought, and all of them looked to be different. Harry wondered if there were more powerful wands at the back of the store, and then wondered if there was even such thing as a more powerful wand. He certainly wasn't sure himself.

Ollivander led them though a doorway into a small room that Harry assumed was one of the old man's living quarters, and gently motioned for Harry and Tonks to sit down on the couch, which they obliged with at once. Ollivander sat down across from them, a small table in front of him. On top of the table was an object that looked to Harry like a Muggle microscope. Ollivander saw his curious expression and chuckled.

'This is a standard microscope enhanced by magic,' he said evenly. 'I can look into an object without worry of blurring, and I can see into a sample with much more efficiency than any Muggle scientist could ever muster.'

He placed the tiny bottle into a little holster that allowed the sample bottle to be fastened into a standing position, and he leveled the scope to zoom in on the blood itself. Looking into it, he made a few more adjustments to the scope, and continued looking.

'Your blood is most definitely different from normal blood, Mr Potter,' said the old man, who was continuing to look into the scope, but otherwise being as mysterious as ever. He made another adjustment. 'There are many more traces of magic within this sample than any sample I've tested, including my own, meaning that you are a powerful wizard indeed, but there is one thing that mystifies me, and that is that some of these traces look blackened.'

He looked up at Harry, as if waiting for an answer. Harry shook his head to indicate that he had no idea what it meant.

Shrugging, Ollivander went back to looking within the scope. The next minute or two passed uneventfully, but after three minutes, Ollivander looked up in shock.

'What is it, sir?' Harry asked.

'Mr Potter,' said Ollivander, amazement in his voice, 'you have traces of venom in your blood stream.'

Tonks looked at Harry in horror and amazement, but Harry didn't seem to notice. He looked at Ollivander, confusion in his gaze, and voiced his concerns.

'What kind of venom?'

'Well, from the looks of the signals in it,' he said, 'it looks like Basilisk venom.'

Tonks gasped, while the older man looked weary, yet excited. Harry, however, did not reply; he was suddenly flooded with memories of a different time, over twelve years ago, when he had been faced with a large snake that was sixty feet in length and could kill you with a glare, with nothing more than the Sorting Hat and Dumbledore's phoenix.

The phoenix...

'Wait, I can see why!' said Harry, remembering something. 'When I faced the Basilisk in my second year, it pierced my arm with one of its fangs. I would have died right then and there, but Fawkes the phoenix came to me and used its tears on the wound, closing it up. I never thought about it again, but now I think it isolated the venom, making sure it couldn't affect me. That must be why it's still there.'

Tonks looked confused.

'Is that even possible?' she asked.

'The healing powers of phoenix tears are a mysterious subject to approach; possibly as mysterious as wandlore,' said Ollivander, who looked amazed at Harry's revelation. 'Mr Potter, you claim that you faced down a Basilisk when you were twelve years old. Why on earth would you do this?'

Harry could tell that the older man couldn't simply look into his mind for the answer; he had closed off his mind to outside viewers.

'During my second year, there were a lot of attacks on Muggleborn students,' said Harry, recalling the events from thirteen years before. 'One of them was my former friend, Hermione Granger, now Weasley. With my other former friend, Ronald Weasley, we were determined to figure out what was causing the attacks. Granger found out that it was a Basilisk before she got Petrified, and we went into the chamber with Gilderoy Lockhart,' Harry almost sneered the name, 'to finish it off. I believe you remember what happened to Lockhart, sir. Anyway, I was faced with the Basilisk alone, and in the end, I killed it and saved Ginevra Weasley, who had been kidnapped and taken to the chamber.'

Ollivander's eyes were widened, but he nodded politely to Harry's conclusion.

'A tragic tale,' he said softly. 'But a tale that explains much. Mr Potter, if you wish, I can forge a new wand for you using your poisoned blood as the core. I will still use the holly and phoenix shell, but your wand's core will be completely unique.'

He seemed to radiate excitement as he said it. It was clear that this was a task he rarely received yet loved to do.

'Mr Ollivander, I would be honored,' said Harry kindly, bowing his head respectfully. 'May I ask how long the process would take?'

'No more than two days,' replied the old man.

'That's fine, then,' said Harry, standing up. 'I appreciate this, sir, I really do.'

'It's no trouble at all, my boy,' said Mr Ollivander, and for a moment, Harry had a fleeting memory of another man, almost as old, speaking to him the same way. He inwardly shuddered, hoping to never have to deal with it from the latter man again. 'I enjoy performing this kind of work, and now, I believe I should begin the forging of the wand.' He stood up as well, and they shook hands. 'I trust that you will come within two days, Mr Potter?'

'I will, sir,' replied Harry, 'and thank you.' With that, he and Tonks bowed again and walked to the front of the store, seeing themselves out.

------------

_**August 22nd, 2005...**_

'I can't believe it,' snapped Minister Cornelius Fudge, looking mutinous. 'I honestly cannot believe it. We show him that we still give a damn about him, and Potter's still content with waiting on the sidelines while everyone is killed? What do we have to do, beg on bended knee?'

The head of the Auror office, Rufus Scrimgeour, simply chuckled.

'Did you really think it would be that easy, Minister?' he said, not bothering to hide his smile; he was enjoying watching his boss squirm. He did not like Fudge one bit. 'You were, after all, the one who personally snapped his wand after the trial, even though you did not have the right to do so. To any wizard or witch, that symbolizes that you do not think he or she is worthy to practice magic. Why should Mr Potter take it any differently than anyone else?'

'Shut your mouth, Scrimgeour,' Fudge yelled, slamming his fist on the desk before him, upsetting ink bottles and stray papers. 'I don't care how he takes it. He can get a new wand, and then he can get his arse back into the battlefield where he belongs! He's the only person capable of beating You-Know-Who, and he's going to do it whether he wants to or not! He's the only hope of our world, damn it!'

'The only hope of your world was imprisoned for nine years for crimes he did not commit, was he not?'

'That's not the point!' shouted Fudge. 'There was a trial concerning it, and all of the evidence pointed to him!'

'And isn't it strange that he was not granted the right to witnesses except for two people, whose proofs were dismissed as irrelevant? Was he not granted the right to Veritaserum?'

'I – he – that is irrelevant to the here and now, Scrimgeour!'

'Apparently it's not, or Mr Potter would have been willing to accept your apology, Minister.'

'Enough!' The Minister looked thoroughly pissed off now. 'That is all history, immaterial! If he does not enter the battlefield willingly, he will find himself back in Azkaban, where we should have left the ungrateful brat in the first place!'

Scrimgeour was enjoying this. Everything Fudge said was being recorded by a spell-enhanced orb that Scrimgeour was keeping in his pocket, in order to use it against him later on should the need arise. _Now, let's see what else makes him tick,_ he thought to himself.

'What is he being ungrateful about, exactly?' he asked calmly. 'Were you not the one who threw him there in the first place? Was the Order of the Phoenix not the one who testified against him, with anyone disagreeing being dismissed immediately? And yet, were the Order members not the ones who went to Azkaban to retrieve him, no doubt hoping to make him see that they needed him, with no regard to what he needed?'

'The only thing he needs is to be put back in his place!'

'You certainly won't be the one to do it, Minister, if you keep this up.'

That did it; Scrimgeour hit home with this remark.

'I will not be told the way my job works by a lower leveled worker!' Fudge yelled, his tone carrying out into the hallways surrounding the office. 'I will not be threatened by you, Scrimgeour! Now get out of my office!'

'Of course, Minister,' said Scrimgeour, bowing himself out of the office.

Walking through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, Scrimgeour smiled inwardly. It felt good to make his supposed superior look like a bumbling fool. And the best part of it all was that he had their conversation recorded.

_Yes, things will be looking up in this war,_ thought Scrimgeour to himself. _I'm not in this to manipulate Harry Potter. But perhaps if I become Minister myself, I can reason with him without resorting to tactics the likes of which Dumbledore and Fudge use. A strong, mutual alliance between the Chosen One and the Ministry of Magic is what this world needs, not a manipulated puppet for those old fools to string along to do their bidding._

He couldn't hide his smirk as he walked away, heading back to his office.

_The first step is seeing to Fudge's early resignation...or getting him sacked. Whichever works better in the end is all right with me._

------------

_**Earlier that day...**_

'You saw him at Gringotts yesterday?' asked Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, against his own common sense, as he looked at the couple sitting across from him in his office. 'Did he speak to you in any way?'

Ronald and Hermione Weasley exchanged a look of worry, wondering whether they should speak about what had happened during their confrontation with Harry at Gringotts. One thing that they were worried about was that he was not as alone as Dumbledore had thought. There were more people than just Longbottom and Severus with him. They had known this, but they had not known that Tonks had been with him as well. Hermione was all for dropping the issue, having voiced her opinion at the last meeting loud and clear, but Ronald wasn't going to drop the chance to put down Harry Potter in front of Dumbledore.

'Oh, he spoke to us,' Ronald muttered darkly, remembering clearly the events that took place, almost against his own wishes. 'He bumped into me accidentally, and he was about to help me up until he apparently realized who I was. His demeanor became a lot darker, and he was very cold towards us for all of those ten or fifteen minutes, I can't remember how much time passed during that scuffle.'

'He tried calling Harry by name,' added Hermione. She mentally berated herself for even saying anything, but when Dumbledore looked over to her, she knew she had no real choice but to continue. 'Harry told us right there the same thing he told you: that we have no right to associate ourselves with familiarity when talking to him. He then apologized for making that mistake with us when he first saw us after bumping into us. After that, he became a lot more distant with me.'

'He laid right into me,' said Ronald, and Dumbledore looked back to him, inviting him to continue. 'He basically told me that if he hadn't been so blind back when we were kids, he might have seen the betrayal coming a long time ago. He went on about my jealousy and how he hates his fame, and then made a comment to Hermione, and then he pushed past me and walked out, Tonks hanging onto his arm.'

'Nymphadora Tonks was with Harry?' Dumbledore asked, looking irritated. 'I thought it was just Severus and young Mr Longbottom who were staying with Harry?'

'No, Headmaster,' said Hermione. 'On the contrary, Harry's been staying with a lot of people, the most notable being former Slytherins such as Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.'

'Slytherins,' echoed Dumbledore, a shadow crossing over his face. He looked angered at this.

'Slytherins who stood up for Harry in the first place,' said Hermione in a don't-start-that-old-feud tone.

'Yes, yes,' said Dumbledore impatiently, dismissing the subject; both Ronald and Hermione knew about his prejudice against Slytherins, and neither felt like getting into the issue, so they let him drop it. 'Who else is staying with him?'

'Is that your business?' asked Hermione a little coolly.

'I'd like to know what is going on with the one who is supposed to be ridding the world of Voldemort, so yes, I do think it's my business,' said Dumbledore defensively. 'A more important question is, how do you know this, Miss Weasley?'

'Fred and George are two of the people staying with him,' said Hermione, narrowing her eyes at Dumbledore suspiciously. 'They wrote to Arthur and Molly telling them that Harry was with them, and to stay away from him. Since Harry left with Severus and Neville, I'm assuming that they're with those two as well.'

Dumbledore nodded, filing this away for later use.

'I don't think there's anything else you need to know,' said Hermione, standing up, 'so if you'll excuse us, we're going to get going –"

'Not yet, Hermione,' said Dumbledore, waving his hand; she sat back down at once, as though they were forced to. A moment later she realized that she _was_ forced to, because she could not move anything aside from her eyes and mouth; it was as though she was petrified. 'There's still more that I want to know, and since you're most unwilling to share it with me, I'll see it for myself.'

Looking her straight in the eye, which she found she could not look away from – her eyes and mouth had now been petrified into one spot as well – he used a small dose of Legilimency to look into her memories of the previous day.

A few minutes later, he looked away, having found nothing he needed that he didn't already know. Hermione was looking at him with a permanently angry glare, and he smiled evenly.

'I could have Imperiused you into telling me, you know,' he reminded her, and her eyes glossed over, realizing this little fact. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore freed both her and Ronald, who had been petrified as well and had not been able to do anything to free himself or his wife.

'I don't know if I can work with someone who petrifies his own people to get what he wants,' said Hermione coldly.

'I do what I do for the greater good of the wizarding world, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore gravely, feigning regret for his actions in looking through Hermione's memories.

'Sometimes I wonder if you truly mean that,' she shot back, and she walked out of the office, Ronald at her tail. He slammed the door behind him.

Dumbledore merely sighed, planning his next move.

------------

_**August 23rd, 2005...**_

Harry woke up that day with only one thought in mind: he would be getting his new wand today. Energized by this one happy thought alone, he got up from his bed on the second floor and walked towards the bathroom, intent on getting a shower and freshening up. He had been up all night reading another book on the Dark Arts; he had about six or seven books read up on that subject now. He was confident that when he got his wand in a few hours, he would at least know the theory behind performing most, if not all, dark spells.

After a quick shower, he got changed into a black button-down shirt and black trousers, tied his long hair back in a ponytail, and headed downstairs. As he walked into the kitchen, he had thought that he was the only person awake right now. He had been wrong.

'We really must stop meeting like this,' Harry said, grinning at the person already sitting at the table.

Daphne Greengrass looked up, her silky black hair hanging over her face, from her newspaper.

'Oh, I'm not so sure,' she said in a teasing tone. 'I think there's a bit of mutual enjoyment in our early morning meetings, wouldn't you agree, Mr Potter? I'm sure you know yourself that you enjoy this.'

'Guilty,' Harry said, still grinning.

Daphne rolled her eyes and went back to her paper. Harry sat down across from her, wondering what he would do to pass the time until he left for Ollivander's. It was only seven-thirty right now. He didn't want to go and bother the man until about ten o'clock, which gave him about two hours before he had to leave. Since he could not Apparate without a wand, he needed someone with him who was capable of Apparition. He had learned that everyone in their little group in Spinner's End fit this category.

Leaning back a little, Harry let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He wasn't really tired, as much as his body kept telling him that he was. He had, after all, slept for almost four hours, and that was more than enough sleep for him. He hadn't slept much in Azkaban, so he was used to being up all night and day.

'You look tired,' commented Daphne from behind her newspaper.

'Four hours of sleep makes my body mad,' said Harry dismissively, not opening his eyes.

'You slept for four hours, and yet you're down here, acting like you don't need the sleep, yet half-asleep as it is?' Daphne exclaimed. She then looked down and said sheepishly, 'That didn't make any sense, did it?'

''Fraid not,' said Harry, his eyes still closed. 'It's just easy for me to get by without a lot of sleep. Nine years in Azkaban plus ten years in the Dursley home, plus four summers, gave me a tolerance for lack of sleep that five years at _Hogwarts_,' he almost spat the name, 'didn't give back to me.'

Daphne winced at the way Harry had said the name of their old school.

'You really hated Hogwarts, didn't you?' she said worriedly, hoping to avoid getting Harry into another temper. Fortunately, Harry did not open his eyes, and he stayed in the same tone as before.

'It's not Hogwarts that I hated,' he said, and Daphne sighed with relief when Harry didn't spit the name. 'It's just this: every year that I was there, I was faced with an obstacle that was trying to kill me. First year was Quirrel. Second year was the Basilisk. Third year was a rabid group of Dementors. Fourth year was the tournament and Voldemort. Fifth year was Voldemort and, to an extent, Umbridge.' He almost sneered at this name; he had not forgotten the name of the woman he had hated so much, though the scars that she had forced him to embed within his skin had long since faded. 'It all goes back to the fact that every single one of those events were caused, in some way or form, by Albus Dumbledore. I just can't forget that. So, when I think about Hogwarts, it makes remember _him_, and everything he did to me.'

Daphne nodded, understanding hitting her mind.

'It must have been horrible,' she said.

'It wouldn't have been so bad if Sirius hadn't been knocked into that bloody curtain,' said Harry, and this time, he opened his eyes, sitting up to look at her. 'That leads me to another thing. A few years ago, I had a vision concerning Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. They were talking about that veil in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort thinks Sirius is still alive, yet no effort has been made to get rid of him for good.'

'He probably thinks that Sirius is trapped in there, and that's good enough,' said Daphne.

'More than likely,' agreed Harry, knowing that Voldemort usually overlooked minor things; it was one of his weaknesses. 'Anyway, when I get my wand back, I'm going to find a way into that veil, and I'm going to see if Sirius is in there. I want him back.'

'When you go,' said Daphne, 'I'll be going with you.'

Harry looked at her, surprised at this.

'You need your friends here, Harry,' she continued, 'but at the very least, if you won't take everyone, let me come. You can't do it alone, and who knows? You just might need me more than you think.'

Harry unintentionally took this in more ways than the meaning intended, but did not comment on that.

'All right,' he said. 'It's your choice.'

'What, no argument?' asked Daphne, grinning at him.

'I'm not as Gryffindor as I look,' replied a smirking Harry. 'I've long since learned my lesson about diving into situations I know little about. Besides, arguing with a woman? Not my cup of tea, thanks.'

'Prat,' she said, ducking her head so he wouldn't see her grin.

She didn't hide it well enough.

------------

Two hours later found Harry and Daphne, dressed elegantly in a way that plainly told passer-bys to beat it, outside of Diagon Alley. Daphne tapped the bricks in the order required, and they entered the newly-formed entryway, which could fit four men easily at the same time.

Walking through Diagon Alley, Harry noticed that there were quite a few more people here than there were two days ago. Indeed, most of these people looked at him with different expressions, none of them negative, and two men even tipped their hats to him. It thoroughly annoyed him. Had they not read the article in the _Daily Prophet_ that had plainly said he didn't want acknowledgement for anything from these people? Yet here they were, as always, giving him looks of wonder and excitement, as though they still expected him to fight on their behalf. He'd be damned if it was anything to do with concern.

Thankfully, they made it to Ollivander's before anyone could truly bother him, and Harry and Daphne entered the small shop. Harry walked up to the counter and knocked on it immediately, knowing that Ollivander was expecting him.

Sure enough, Ollivander appeared moments later, holding a cloth in one hand and a haggard-looking wand in the other. _That must be his wand,_ thought Harry. _Come to think of it, I haven't seen his before anyway. He's older than I thought, and I thought he was pretty old to begin with._

'Ah, Mr Potter,' he said, bowing with a small smile, which Harry returned. 'And young Miss Greengrass as well, I believe? Yew, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, I believe?'

'Indeed, sir,' said Daphne in a respectful tone, holding up her wand. 'And it works just as well as it did when I received it.'

'Excellent, excellent,' said Ollivander, bowing low. 'Please, follow me to the back. I have finished your wand, Mr Potter. It is in perfect working condition now.'

'Excellent,' said Harry, mimicking Ollivander.

They followed Ollivander to the back of the store, stopping for nothing, until they entered the room with the magical microscope that Harry had seen the last time he was here. Lying next to it was a long, thin black wand that looked as though it radiated power. Harry knew this was his new wand.

'Yes, that is the Basilisk wand,' said Ollivander, awe in his voice; he sounded surprised to even himself. 'This is quite possibly the most powerful magical wand that I have ever sculpted. It uses spells and curses to the highest extent of power, and draws from the source of all wizard kind's power: the soul.

'It is made of holly, like your last wand, and is thirteen inches long...'

Harry listened to Ollivander's words, still staring in wonder at his new wand. He would always have a special place in his mind and heart for his old wand, but this... this was a work of art. He picked it up, running his fingers over it. It was the perfect wand,

'It's beautiful, sir,' Harry mumbled, not taking in the fact that he had cut Ollivander off in mid-sentence. However, Ollivander merely chuckled, seemingly filled with pride at these words of wonder and thanks.

'You're quite welcome, Mr Potter,' he replied evenly. 'I daresay it was an honor serving you.'

'And it was an honor to be served by you, Mr Ollivander,' Harry replied, still in awe. 'Those who I still trust will most definitely be recommended this shop.'

'Thank you, Mr Potter,' said Ollivander, bowing them out.

------------

'You got your wand,' said Daphne, grinning at the sight of her friend, who was still staring at it in wonder ten minutes later, as they walked towards the bookstore. 'It's not going anywhere, Harry. You can look away now.'

Harry looked up, as though he had only realized she was there with him.

'Oh, ha, ha,' she said spitefully, and Harry grinned.

'It's been nine years since I've been granted a wand,' said Harry happily, 'and this one is supposed to be more powerful than most. I think I like this wand.'

'You _think_ you do?'

'Oh, shut up, Daph. It's not nice to poke fun at other people.'

Daphne merely rolled her eyes and kept walking, playfully ignoring Harry, who merely smirked and walked alongside her, twirling his new wand in his fingers.

He was not just pretending for this. He was actually amazed at the work put into this new wand. It was a feeling like no other. When he had held his first wand, it had felt like he had been reunited with someone foreign, familiar, to him. The feeling he had from this new wand was completely different. It was as though a bit of his own magical energy had been given to him, and he loved the feeling. Put short, he loved magic.

_And aside from a few regrets in the past, I don't think I'd ever give up magic for anything._

Regrets... All of a sudden, Harry remembered something.

'Daphne, what ever happened to my owl?'

Daphne stopped in her tracks, looking at Harry, who had stopped as well, looking self-disgusted, as though forgetting all about his owl companion had been a horrible thing for him to do.

'Your owl?' echoed Daphne.

'Yes,' Harry repeated, 'my owl, Hedwig; she's snow-white and small in size. Has she been back in Spinner's End since my imprisonment?'

'No,' replied Daphne, suddenly remembering something. 'She was sent to another house after the trial.' She suddenly remembered the house, and gulped soundly.

'Daphne?' asked Harry quietly. 'Whose house was Hedwig sent to?'

'Weasley's house,' she replied, looking fearful. Sure enough, Harry's eyes darkened a little, and he looked mutinous.

'That git,' he muttered angrily. 'Stole my owl, did he? I'll show him!'

'It wasn't Ronald Weasley,' mumbled Daphne. 'It was Ginny Weasley.'

'The Weasley girl?' said Harry in shock, looking up. 'Why would she get my owl? I barely even knew Ginny Weasley at the time, aside from her being in the headquarters of the Order, and being dear Ronald's sister.'

'Your possessions that we didn't retrieve were being auctioned off to families who knew you well by the Ministry,' replied Daphne. 'I think the Macmillans got your school robes. The Weasley mother, Molly, got some old mirror that was in pieces; she's since fixed it and put it over the fireplace, according to Fred and George. Ronald Weasley got your Firebolt, and Ginny Weasley took your owl. She's apparently in good care, though she doesn't like it at The Burrow.'

Harry smirked; he knew Hedwig would have been loyal to him alone, even after all this time. The thought elated him as much as the sight of his new wand had.

'The Ministry auctioned off my stuff, did they?'

'Yes,' said Daphne. 'Fudge did it. He even sold the two halves of your old wand. I think the Notts got them.'

Harry scowled; the Notts were supporters of Voldemort. That meant that Voldemort had the shards of his old wand, in one way or another, and this brought down his feeling of elation from moments before.

'We're going to make a stop to The Burrow later,' Harry said in a low snarl. 'I want my owl back.'

'Are you mad?' asked Daphne incredulously. 'As far as Fudge is concerned, that owl belongs to the Weasleys, and you trying to take it back would be considered theft!'

'As if I care how Fudge takes it,' Harry shot back. 'He knows damn well that if he annoys me too much, I'll leave the United Kingdom and London behind for good. He won't do a damn thing about me taking back what's rightfully mine. Besides, Hedwig isn't a possession, she's my partner.'

'There's something in that,' Daphne sighed, resigning herself to agreement.

'Let's go now,' said Harry, pocketing his wand. 'I don't care about proper mannerisms where they're concerned. If they know what's good for them, they'll let me have my owl back.'

'You aren't exactly strong right now, Harry,' Daphne reminded him.

'That doesn't matter. It's the lack of strength in me right now that scares them so much,' Harry replied.

Daphne looked surprised.

'How did you know that?' she asked, surprised.

Harry merely smiled.

'While I didn't have a wand in Azkaban,' he replied in a snide tone, 'Legilimency doesn't require a wand to learn. I learned all of that, along with Occlumency, through Voldemort himself. They don't have a damn chance of reading my mind, and they don't have a chance of blocking my Legilimency. I know they fear me, not for my strength, but for the lack thereof.'

------------

The Burrow had not changed at all in eleven years of Harry not seeing it. When he had last seen it, during the summer of the Quidditch Finals, he had always considered it to be another home to him, like Hogwarts had been.

This had long ago changed. The place now looked foreign to him.

Harry and Daphne walked up the pathway together, side by side, towards the front yard. They noticed with amusement that there were a lot of lawn gnomes in the yard still. Deciding to ignore this, they walked up to the front door. Harry knocked three times.

A minute later, someone else's voice spoke.

'Speak your full name and business.'

Harry was surprised; last he had heard, he had been sure that the owner of this voice had disowned his whole family and left it behind. Apparently, something had changed.

'I am Harry James Potter, and I have personal business with your family,' replied Harry in the same tone as the man behind the door.

The door swung open, and Percy Weasley stood in the doorway, his glasses framing his suspicious-looking eyes, which were narrowed at the two before him.

'Potter?' he asked incredulously. 'What do you want?'

'To stop by for a friendly chat,' said Harry in a mocking tone. 'What the hell do you think I want, Weasley? Your family has things that belong to me, and I want them back.'

'What on earth are you talking about?' Percy snapped, his eyes now widening a bit, a worried look in them.

'Hmm, how about my owl and my mirror?' asked Harry sarcastically. Daphne laughed. Percy ignored her and continued staring at Harry. Surprisingly, Harry felt a bit of a tap on his Occlumency shields. He brushed it aside easily.

'You'd do well not to try that on me,' said Harry coldly. 'Now either relinquish my owl and mirror, or I'll come in and take them by force.'

'You wouldn't,' snapped Percy. 'The Ministry would never let you get away with it.'

'I'm not worried about being thrown back in Azkaban, Percy, I know you were happy with me being there,' Harry retorted coolly. 'Now give me my owl.'

'Or what?' daunted Percy.

'You'll feel my wrath.'

Percy evidently decided to humor him, for he pushed open the door, letting Harry enter.

'No funny business,' snapped the older man, walking upstairs to bring down the other members of the household. Not one minute later, he came back down, followed by Ginny and Molly, with Ron at the rear.

'Percy told me you were here on personal business,' said Molly, looking a little frightened; she had not forgotten her last encounter with Harry, even if his rage had not been aimed at her in particular. 'What can we do for you, Mr Potter?'

'I'd like my owl and mirror back, if you don't mind,' said Harry with forced calm, his cold, deadened eyes locked with Ginny's warm, brown ones, which were widened with fright.

'Hedwig's my owl now,' said Ginny, looking determined through her fear.

In a flash, Harry raised his new wand, pointing it at her. For the moment, he seemed to radiate power.

'I'm not asking nicely a second time, Weasley,' he snapped, his impatience with them growing all the more; were they honestly this foolish? 'Now bring me my owl and mirror. I'm not asking a third time at all. Those belong to me, being gifts that I received from important people in my life.'

'Hagrid is still an important person in your life?' snorted Ronald, his thick-headedness preventing him from seeing the logic in the situation, or the common sense.

'As far as I know, Rubeus Hagrid did not condemn me to Azkaban, Mr Weasley,' replied Harry coldly. 'Sirius Black certainly didn't. But I didn't come here to relive the past. I believe I informed you of your mistakes of the past during our last encounter. All I want is my owl and mirror, and then I'll never have an excuse to enter your home again.' He said this last part in a low snarl, as though nothing would please him more. Molly Weasley whimpered at this, but Harry outright ignored her.

'I paid for Hedwig with my own money,' snapped Ginny, who felt no fear, but only stubbornness. 'Hedwig is my owl now, and I will not let you steal her from me.'

'The Minister of Magic had no right to sell off any of my belongings,' retorted Harry, letting the calmness in his voice slip. His grip on his wand tightened. 'Nor did the Minister have the right to snap my wand, given that it is the Wizengamot's job to deem me innocent or guilty and hand me the consequences afterwards. As it stands, he went against the law in both cases, and now I am taking back what is mine. You bought my owl illegally, and now I am taking her back with me, where she belongs. I won't ask you anymore, Ginevra Weasley, _now bring me my owl!_'

Ginny paled. She seemed to finally remember the last time the Order, and everyone in it, had set Harry off, and she certainly did not want to be swallowed up by Harry's fury. However, the owl was hers; she was hardly going to give it to him.

'You won't take Hedwig, Potter,' she hissed. 'She's my owl. She no longer has any familiarity with you.'

The moment these words had slipped out of her mouth, she had screamed. From her nostrils sprouted dozens of bat-like creatures, swarming around her head. Ronald cursed out loud and shot a counter-hex, but it did nothing.

'Call them off, Potter!' he yelled.

Molly Weasley had yelled something as well, but Harry had paid no mind to either of them. His new wand had cast the first spell he had thought off, and it was apparently irreversible to everyone except for him. Ronald had figured that out.

'Scared of a curse that you yourself used to use a lot, Miss Weasley?' Harry sneered, his anger clouding his judgment. 'Scared of the very hex that you used to threaten us with back at Hogwarts? Well, that's too bad. Given your affinity with it, I figured that you would enjoy it being used on you.'

She made to swat them away, but Harry merely bound her hands together with another non-verbal spell, looking unconcerned. She whimpered now, screaming loudly.

Deciding that she had had enough for the moment, Harry cast the counter-curse for the Bat-Bogey Hex and called them off. He did not, however, bother removing the bindings. She struggled with them, looking angrily at them, but they were irremovable to everyone but him.

'Let me go,' she demanded.

Harry merely looked at her through narrowed green eyes. He could not believe the nerve of this girl. He had saved her very life so many years ago, and she had been quick to testify against him. She had then bought his owl from an illegal auction of his belongings, no doubt started by Cornelius Fudge. Now she was outright refusing to give back Hedwig? Harry would have none of that.

'No,' he replied simply.

Ronald raised his own wand now, pointing it at Harry's face.

'Let her hands go, Potter,' snapped the red-headed man.

'You have a lot of nerve demanding anything of me, Weasley,' retorted Harry.

'Please,' begged Molly, who was quickly losing herself to her tears, to which Harry paid no mind, but he did turn his head to face her. 'Please! I beg of you, Mr Potter, release my daughter!'

Harry sighed. He did not care about Molly Weasley at all anymore, but he decided to listen. He was quickly growing tired of being in the Weasley home as it was; there were too many memories here that he would rather forget. He knew not how to use a Memory Charm, but one day he might just learn how to cast it. He really and truly hated these people.

'_Finite,_' he muttered, pointing his wand at the bindings, which fell free and vanished.

Ginny stopped struggling when she realized that her arms were free, and she rubbed her wrists, looking at Harry furiously. Harry looked supremely unconcerned with her reaction; he could care less what anyone in this household thought of him anymore.

'Just give me my belongings,' he snapped.

She sighed and stormed up the stairs, heading for her room on the floor above. A minute later, she came back down with Hedwig on her arm. Harry looked amused at the fact that Hedwig was holding the arm she was standing on quite tightly; her talons looked to be piercing Ginny's skin. Hedwig saw Harry, and took off towards him without a second glance at Ginny. She landed on Harry's shoulder, an odd contrast to Harry's black-colored clothing with her white feathers. Molly handed Harry the mirror, who pocketed it.

'I think Hedwig made her own choice,' Harry commented, and Ginny scowled. Hedwig turned her head away from them, her eyes closed, as though she were looking down on them. 'You'd do well to never steal my possessions and my owl again. Do not touch her. I will leave now.'

He turned and walked towards the door. Daphne, who had stood to the side while watching the confrontation without comment, followed behind him. As they walked up to the door, they were stopped by another Weasley, who looked frightened. Harry, however, did not look at him with mutiny; he stared at him with relief, almost happiness.

'I'm afraid we cannot stay for catching up, William, as I've already made a very lousy impression on your family currently present,' he said with a bit of regret in his voice, 'but maybe next time, old friend.'

Bill Weasley looked very surprised at this.

'You're not angry with me?' he asked.

'I see no reason to be,' replied Harry dismissively. 'You didn't testify against me, and I've never heard of you contributing to my imprisonment, whether directly or indirectly. Since Fred and George did not come to the trial, either, I see no reason to hold a grudge against you, especially considering I have respect for your skill.'

'I'm sorry that the rest of my brothers would not see things this way, Mr Potter,' said Bill softly, looking regretful, almost saddened.

'They've made their choice,' said Harry. 'You, Fred and George simply chose differently, and I thank you for it. I must be going now. We can catch up another time.'

'See you around, then, Harry,' said Bill.

'You, too, old friend,' said Harry, and they shook hands. Ronald, Ginny, Percy and Molly looked as though they were about to faint in shock.

Without a second glance, Harry walked out of the house, Hedwig on his shoulder and Daphne at his heels. He did not look back as he Disapparated with his friends.

------------

'You've got a _Basilisk_ wand?' Neville yelled with a mix of shock, glee, amazement, fright and surprise, which Harry found amusing.

'Yep, he got his new wand,' said Daphne, with the same amusement as Harry. She turned to face him. 'He couldn't stop staring at it for about fifteen minutes after he got it. We thought he had forgotten what a wand looked like.'

'Oh, ha, ha,' said Harry, grinning.

They had returned to Spinner's End after their confrontation at The Burrow. Harry had decided that he had had enough excitement for the day, and Daphne readily agreed. The three spells that Harry had cast today already had somehow tuckered him out; he merely assumed that it was the new quality of the wand. He had sent a letter to the Ministry demanding a meeting with Fudge, which Hedwig looked more than happy to go with, and had sat down with his new friends.

'So your minor curses were irreversible to everyone except for you?' asked Fred in amazement.

'Yep,' replied Harry. 'For some reason, when your brother Ronald tried to remove the Bat-Bogey Hex from your dear sister, he couldn't do it, and I think your mother might have tried, but if she did, that didn't work either.'

'You've got one powerful wand there, Harry,' said George with awe. 'I've never heard of a wand made with Basilisk venom.'

'The venom itself came from my blood,' said Harry.

Everyone fell silent.

'You've had _poison_ in your blood?' said Fred with horror. 'You've had toxic running through your veins for half of your life? How have you survived?'

'When Fawkes healed me, he somehow sealed off the blood in me in a way that it wouldn't affect my system,' said Harry. 'I don't know how it works myself, but if it didn't work, I'd have been dead at the age of twelve.'

He looked down at his new wand, once again taking in its beauty and powerful figure.

'I'll never let anything happen to this wand,' he said happily.

At that moment, they heard a tapping on the window. Harry looked over to see Hedwig perched on the sill, holding not one, but two letters. He immediately walked over to let her in, and took both scrolls.

'That's strange,' he muttered to himself. 'I only wrote to the Minister. Who else delivered, girl?'

He opened the first letter, from a Ministry official under Fudge, telling him to be there at three o'clock two days from now for the meeting. Harry snorted at the briefness of the note, but did not comment. He took out the second letter, opened it, and looked through it. When he looked up again, he looked confused.

'What is it, Harry?' Daphne asked. 'Who sent the letters?'

'The first one is from the Ministry of Magic, confirming my meeting with Fudge,' said Harry softly, holding the letters in one hand and holding Hedwig on his other arm. 'The second letter confuses me. It's from a man named Rufus Scrimgeour.'

------------

Author's Note:

Well, there's chapter three for you. I could have gone on from there, but I've written enough for it as it is, and I don't want to continue for a couple dozen pages. This one was just more than twenty.

I know you all think I'm evil for throwing in cliffhangers, something I'm sure I haven't done in previous stories (but then, I don't think I've written previous stories all that well, except maybe SOG), but consider this: If I didn't use cliffhangers, would you be as desperate to see the next chapter? I'm certain you would rather the evil cliffies than boring endings.

You'll see Scrimgeour's role in this during the next chapter. I don't plan on making him out like an incompetent fool, such as the way JKR made him in canonical Harry Potter. With Fudge, it's that easy.

Anyway, read and review, etcetera, I still enjoy reading your feedback.


	5. Chapter 4: Beneath The Archway

Author's Note: The following will be in Italics: Parseltongue, thoughts, flashbacks, letters, spells and dreams. Anything else incorporated with Italics will be duly mentioned.

Disclaimer: This world is not mine, and neither are its characters or spells, unless made up on the spot – these will be mentioned as stated. JKR owns this world, not me.

Additional Note: Some of you have pointed out that Harry's wand was made of holly, not yew, and that I incorporated both. This was a mistake on my part. When I read the first book, it mentioned yew twice: once for Harry and once for Voldemort. Apparently I read it wrong. Thank you to those who pointed this out. As for Harry's remaining possessions, you'll find out about those in the next few chapters, so don't worry. I'm trying not to go at a fast pace, because excluding the prologue and epilogue, this will only be a twenty chapter story. I might, MIGHT, make it longer, but the cutoff point is twenty right now. I will try to make them longer, but the longer I write, the longer you wait, so you'll have to bear with me. One final note, for those who were wondering, the 'DG' stands for Daphne Greengrass. Thank you for your time, and now we continue.

Full Summary: Harry Potter was accused of the murders of his relatives, and thrown into Azkaban. Nine years later, he was released. With the threat of Voldemort looming over the world, can Harry put aside his differences and save the world from Voldemort for good? SlightlyDarkHarry, eventual HPDG.

**Chapter Four: Beneath The Archway**

'Rufus Scrimgeour?' asked Draco Malfoy, confusion clouding his usual drawl. He looked from the letter to Harry. 'He's the guy who leads the Auror department, I think. He's one of Fudge's direct underlings; that much I know.'

'That sounds like him, yeah,' said Fred. 'I know the Order mentioned him a lot, since most of them are Aurors themselves.'

'Why would he write to you, Harry?' asked Daphne with concern.

'It's not an arrest note,' said Harry, pocketing the letters. 'He wants to meet me in person. I can't see a reason not to; I mean, I don't have a grudge against him, that's the Ministry as a whole and Fudge himself. He wants to meet me on the weekend. He claims to have a proposition.'

'To be the Ministry's new messenger, I'll bet,' muttered Malfoy darkly.

'Could be,' agreed Harry. 'But I'm still going to look into it.'

'As long as you feel it's a smart thing to do,' Malfoy said seriously, standing up from his spot on the couch. 'In the meantime, I got a letter from my father the other day.'

'Was Lucius nice and fatherly towards you in this letter?' asked George, rolling his eyes.

'Did he want to have a nice father-son day with you?' said Fred, smirking.

Malfoy didn't dignify their remarks with replies. Instead, he fished through the pocket of his trousers, looking for the letter to show them. Finding it crumpled, he stuck it down on the couch, muttered, '_Flaitana,_' and it lay flat on the couch. He picked it up and handed it to Harry.

'You're going to love this,' said Malfoy with an expressionless grin.

Harry picked it up. It was written in a darker ink, so he raised his wand, non-verbally lit it, and began to read under the wand light.

_My son,_

_It has been far too long since I have heard from you, Draco. Surely you didn't think I'd forgotten all about you, did you, boy? You are my son, and the heir to the Malfoy family. You had better not be disgracing the Malfoy name, or you will be sorry._

_I have heard recently that you have been fraternizing with the only man who is a threat to us, Harry Potter. I'm not sure how many brain cells you have lost in battles, but might I remind you that you are a Malfoy? Malfoys do not associate with blood traitors. You would do well to remember that. Sever ties with Mr Potter, and your past disobedience will be forgotten. The Dark Lord has agreed to this as well._

_Oh, and do tell dear old Severus that he is facing death if we ever find him. I know he is with you. Zabini and Greengrass will come to expect the same thing. Do not shame me, Draco. You have been warned._

_Regards,_

_Your father_

Harry almost burst out laughing as he handed the letter back to Draco, who burned it to a crisp within seconds. He instead let out a low whistle, as though mystified.

'Your father is a strange one, yet ridiculous,' he said slowly, considering his words as he spoke them. 'He actually believes Voldemort would spare you if you went back to him?'

'He does not,' replied Malfoy, who banished the remaining ashes of the letter. 'That was written as a warning. He does not realize that he is the one shaming the Malfoy name. Malfoys do NOT bow down before anyone, especially half-bloods and Muggleborns. No offense to you, of course. But Voldemort is a half-blood, and my father is shaming his very existence by following that serpent's orders.'

Malfoy looked away from the group, his eyes fixed on something he could not see.

'When the time comes,' he said slowly, 'I'll kill him myself.'

The others nodded. They knew how deep Malfoy's hatred for his father ran after he had basically been kicked out of Malfoy Manor, and he had told Harry the story a week ago. It wasn't something he liked talking about, and as such, everyone remained quiet.

'What about your letter, Harry?' asked Fred curiously. 'Wanna read it for us?'

'Yeah, come on, Harry,' said George in a mock serious tone, 'show us all your amazing tones and voices.'

Everyone laughed, including Harry.

'All right,' he said, 'I'll read it.'

Straightening it out again, he began to read aloud.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I'm aware of your misgivings with the Ministry at the current time, and I must say, after a few recent meetings with Minister Fudge, I cannot help but agree with you. I might as well tell you right now that Minister Fudge wants nothing more than for you to be thrown into the battlefield to fight Voldemort – he doesn't care about your opinion on the idea as a whole any longer. He wishes for you to be sent into battle, and he's threatening you with Azkaban if you do not accept this._

_On a better note, I believe it is time you had inside help from the Ministry itself. We can both determine with ease that Fudge is not a great leader: in fact, he's downright terrible. Because of this, the world's resistance is crumbling. Dumbledore, while a decent warrior in his own right, is not leading his own army properly. His recent interest in you is getting in the way of his leadership. Both Fudge and Dumbledore want you back. The rest of the world is merely grieving that you won't help them, but the two leaders are the problem. I am here to help you. If you should need it, I am willing to give you Aurors from my staff. I am sure they would be willing to help you._

_I would like to meet you in person, Mr Potter. I believe we could form a powerful team against both Voldemort and Dumbledore. You'll also find that I am one of the few you would know who isn't afraid of the Dark Lord's name. Fear of a name, after all, intensifies fear of the very thing to which the name exists. If we could meet this weekend, say on Saturday, it would be greatly welcome. I look forward to meeting you, Mr Potter._

_Sincerely,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour_

'He wants to help you?' asked Malfoy, with an odd expression on his face. 'He wants to spy on Fudge for you?'

'And apparently help me plan to overthrow Fudge in the end,' said Harry, lowering the letter again. 'Not a big fan of Dumbledore, either. But at least he can see through the manipulative old man like the rest of us can.'

'A strange man, Scrimgeour is,' said a quiet voice, and they turned to see Severus Snape walking into the room, a cup of tea in one hand. He smiled at them all. 'Rufus Scrimgeour was an Auror back when I was a student. He was only promoted eighteen years ago. Anyway, he also taught Defense Against the Dark Arts in my third year. We weren't sure if he was downright brilliant or downright mental. He knew many spells.'

'I suppose he'd have to, being an Auror,' said Fred, nodding.

'Not necessarily, Frederick,' said Severus, looking over at Fred, who scowled a slight bit at the use of his full name but said nothing. 'Most Aurors know how to use the spells demanded of them, but many of them do not go further than that. Scrimgeour went deep into the art of dueling. I daresay he could outlast at least three or four opponents in a duel, even at this age.'

'Even Death Eaters?' asked Harry.

'Even Death Eaters,' nodded Severus.

'Impressive,' said Harry softly. 'I look forward to meeting Scrimgeour, then.'

He thought for a moment. That was another thing he had accomplished. He had retrieved his bank accounts, received his wand, obtained a Ministry spy, got his owl and mirror back...

...and then he realized what he had forgotten.

'How did I manage to forget about my Firebolt?' Harry pondered aloud.

Everyone in the room looked at him, wondering what he was talking about.

'Sorry?' voiced Malfoy.

'Back nine years ago, when Fudge sold off everything I owned for cheap after he knew I was in Azkaban,' Harry said, remembering everything that Daphne had told him now. 'She told me that my robes were sold to Ernie's family – like that matters, I have new ones now anyway – and that my owl and Firebolt were sold to the Weasleys.'

'We can get that back for you, Harry,' said George, while Fred nodded. 'Ronald most likely has it at The Burrow. You probably forgot about it because of Hedwig and Sirius' mirror.'

'I could have made him get it while I was there,' moaned Harry, smacking his forehead angrily. 'I got Molly and Ginny to give me the things they had that were mine, so how could I forget about the Firebolt?'

'Remus Lupin got your Map,' said Severus, remembering the Marauder's Map of Hogwarts; Fred and George had told him about it, and he had sworn he had seen Harry use it at least twice while at Hogwarts.

'Who got my Invisibility Cloak, then?' asked Harry, not caring about the Map right now; he had no intention of going back to Hogwarts, and thus the Map was useless to him.

'I believe it went to Dumbledore,' said Severus bitterly.

Harry swore aloud. So, not only was the old man doing everything in his power to get Harry back, but he was also one of the ones stealing his possessions. His hatred for Dumbledore sunk a bit deeper at these words.

'I'll get them all back,' said Harry angrily. 'I'm sure there are other things I'm not thinking about, but they'll come back to me.'

'Indeed,' Severus said.

'For now,' Harry continued, 'I have the Ministry and Scrimgeour to worry about.'

------------

_**August 26th, 2005...**_

Rufus Scrimgeour sat within the confines of his office, pacing the floor. One might think he was worried about something. Others might say he was paranoid. In all truthfulness, it was a bit of both.

Harry Potter had sent his reply, confirming that he would indeed show up at the date and time given. Scrimgeour knew he had not given a direct time and place, but he also knew that Mr Potter could simply get that for himself when he got here. As for the time, he had the day off; whenever Mr Potter showed up was fine with him. As long as Fudge didn't know about this meeting, everything was all right.

He looked at the clock. It read three twenty-seven in the afternoon. Harry had said he would be here at three-thirty, but Scrimgeour wasn't worried. Mr Potter was one who could surprise people without even trying or wanting to surprise them. It had to do with being the Boy-Who-Lived, which Scrimgeour personally thought was far-fetched. If his parents died and he survived, it was likely a sacrifice barrier, or something similar, and if the whole world thought that was worth worshipping, well, they'd see soon enough.

Three twenty-nine. Mr Potter would be here in one minute. He honestly had never met the man, now twenty-five years old, before. He assumed that Mr Potter would have his own ideals for the war, if he was even part of it anymore. He just wanted the allegiance of Mr Potter, and that was all. He could care less if the young man was in the war.

At the precise second that the clock struck three-thirty, the door opened and a tall man walked in, dressed in black robes. Scrimgeour could only stare. Harry Potter had not yet lost the dead look in his eyes that had been a part of being in Azkaban, but on the whole, he looked better than he had been when he was released. He had filled out a bit, although he was still very thin, and he carried himself well. His jet-black hair, which Scrimgeour had been told was always a mess on top of his head, was almost elbow-length and was tied back.

Harry Potter seemed to radiate control over himself, and this was exactly the look Scrimgeour had been looking for.

'Mr Harry Potter?' asked Scrimgeour, looking away briefly so as not to seem rude. The man nodded. 'I am Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.'

'The pleasure is all mine, sir,' said Harry in a soft yet controlled voice, holding out a hand, which Scrimgeour took. They shook once, as a sign of respect, and let go. Scrimgeour was shocked to feel how weakened Harry's grip was; it was like holding a limp hand with a light hold.

'Well, Mr Potter,' said Scrimgeour, sitting down at his desk and gesturing for Harry to sit down as well, 'there is a lot in which we must discuss today. I understand that you have had a falling out with the rest of the world, including and revolving around the Order of the Phoenix?'

'And the Ministry,' said Harry, nodding. 'Only the Ministry as a whole, though; not everyone and everything in it.'

'I see,' said Scrimgeour thoughtfully. 'No doubt because of their abruptness in throwing you into Azkaban, I assume. As I have said, I fully agree. A trial that does not allow the accused of using Veritaserum is not a proper trial at all.'

'With Cornelius Fudge leading it, I doubt any trial is proper, sir,' said Harry in a cold voice.

'As I am aware, Cornelius Fudge does not have any authority over the Wizengamot,' Scrimgeour commented, taking note on how his superior had broken the law in throwing Harry into Azkaban by taking rule over a trial he was not supposed to be in.

'He decided to show up anyway,' said Harry. 'He also denied me the right to all of my witnesses, allowing me only two, who were essentially ignored. The number of witnesses in the whole is quite a bit bigger than I was allowed. Then, of course, he allowed about two dozen or more witnesses to testify against me; I lost count after the Order finished, and that alone was a large number.'

Scrimgeour nodded, shocked at this turn of events. The entire Order of the Phoenix had condemned Harry to Azkaban, and they had had the nerve to try and bring him back to them when they broke him free? Something was not right there. Harry would have never fallen for that, not with the amount of knowledge that Scrimgeour knew about him, and that was limited.

'Who were all of the witnesses who were supposed to testify in your defense?' he asked.

'There were a few of them,' Harry said. 'I'll name them all. Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, Nymphadora Tonks, Daphne Greengrass, Frederick and George Weasley and their brother William Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Rubeus Hagrid. There might have been more; I simply cannot remember at this time. The only two who actually were granted testifying rights were Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. The rest were denied under ridiculous claims. I don't remember the claims, though. I'd name off the people who testified against me, but there are so many of them that I would lose track before I finished.'

'The base of them, however, was the Order members?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

'By the way, Mr Potter –'

'Please, sir,' said Harry softly, 'we will obviously be working together for a while, so I think it would be okay if you called me by name. Just Harry is fine.'

Scrimgeour looked a little surprised, but nodded.

'Of course, Harry,' he said, 'if you agree to the same. You may call me Rufus. Now, as I was about to ask, did you find out for yourself who the man who impersonated you was?'

'Yes,' replied Harry. 'It was Mundungus Fletcher.'

'_Fletcher?_' Scrimgeour exclaimed, clearly shocked. 'You mean the drunken man from the Order?'

'The very same, Rufus,' was the reply.

'How did you come to learn about this, Harry? Did someone from the Order tell you?'

'Not exactly,' Harry stated, running a hand through his hair, which was tied back tightly to the point where touching it was pointless. 'You see, when I was in Azkaban, I did not have a wand. When I wasn't reliving the past because of Dementors, I was studying Voldemort. He and I have a connection; one that I think is unexplainable. I can see his thoughts, he can see mine. I can even see what he is doing or saying sometimes. I learned about his past. I learned the truth about his Muggle father, whom he shares a name with. I learned about his wizarding side, the Gaunts, who lived a life worse than pigs. I learned about his killing of his father and grandparents, and his framing of his Uncle Morfin Gaunt. Then I learned the secret to his immortality.'

'We knew he was immortal,' said Scrimgeour, who had been listening intently. 'But we could never find out how he managed to gain it. Whatever it was, however, must have contributed to his serpentine shape.'

'It did,' said Harry. 'He has a seven-part soul. He has six Horcruxes.'

'Horcruxes?' asked Scrimgeour, clearly confused.

'Yes,' Harry replied. 'Well, actually, no. He has five now. Without knowing it, I destroyed one in my second year at Hogwarts. It was in the protection of his old diary.'

'But what is a Horcrux?'

'I don't know all the details,' said Harry, 'as he's hidden most of them even from his own mind, in the unlikely situation that someone could breach his mental defenses. It is rather clever, I must admit. I didn't think he would ever even question one of his own skills, but he cares too much about his immortality. But I do know the literal meaning of a Horcrux. It's the embodiment of a piece of one's soul, which is split from the rest because of an act which is unforgivable, in an object. The first one was his diary. The seventh one will, of course, be his serpentine body: this is the rest of his soul. As for the others, I know only of two of them. The second is a ring that belonged to his grandfather of the Gaunts, and the third is his snake, Nagini.'

'He used his serpent as a soul protector?' exclaimed Scrimgeour.

'Yes. This is how he has so much control over his snake. Usually, not even a Parseltongue has that much control over a serpent.'

'Are you a Parseltongue, Mr Potter?'

'Yes, I am.' Harry rubbed his scar, which looked dulled. 'It's all because of Voldemort's connection with me. I have some of his powers because of the failed Killing Curse. I can speak Parseltongue, I can heal quite quickly, and now,' he rubbed his eyes, 'I have his Legilimency and Occlumency powers as well. I learned them through him, and that's why I wasn't insane when I was freed from Azkaban. While the Dementors were horrible to me in pairs, Occlumency dulled down their effect a little. I could still think and speak rationally.'

'Is this how you learned of Fletcher framing you?' Scrimgeour asked.

'Yes,' replied Harry. 'The funny thing is, Dumbledore was the one who had tried to make me learn Occlumency at first. He forced me to learn it so that Voldemort couldn't throw visions into my mind. He got Severus Snape, who I am friends with now, to teach me. At the time, because of our two-sided hatred, it was a living hell for me. When I learned it from Voldemort's memories, it seemed so much easier. However, it did not help. It brought down the affects of the Dementor's chilling powers, but it did not block my mind from Voldemort, similarly to how his Occlumency did not block his mind from me. We seem to have direct connections to each other's minds that even Occlumency cannot shield. As for Fletcher, I saw the truth in the minds' of the Order when they came to set me free.'

'It seems that the Order has a lot to answer to,' said Scrimgeour a little angrily.

'Not for that, they don't,' said Harry. 'They had only just found out. Mundungus Fletcher had been getting away with his crime against me and my relatives for nine years. What I don't understand is why they trusted Mundungus to begin with. He was a black market man to the highest degree. He _radiated_ distrust.'

'Trust is something that makes very little difference to anyone during a war,' Scrimgeour muttered. 'At least, in the Ministry that seems to be the case.'

'Yes, well, Fudge is not exactly a leader, if we can express ourselves freely,' commented Harry airily, and Scrimgeour nodded vigorously, causing Harry to laugh. 'I didn't think so either, Rufus. What I don't understand is why he's still Minister. According to my friend, Rubeus Hagrid, he's been leader since I was eleven at the very least.'

'It's different with wizards,' replied Scrimgeour indifferently, running a hand through his long mane of hair. 'In our world, unless someone is called out of office by the majority of the wizarding world, they will effectively be Minister for as long as they please. It's one of our less favorable traditions.'

'You've got that right,' Harry muttered, knowing only too well how simple-minded Cornelius Fudge was; he had seen it all during his fifth year, when Fudge had gone all out to paint a picture of Harry to the wizarding world as a raving lunatic. 'Why the wizarding world let that coward into office in the first place is beyond my logic. He only cares about his position and the money that comes with it. Isn't that why Lucius Malfoy was always with him?'

'You are correct,' Scrimgeour confirmed. 'Unfortunately, we could not do anything about it because at the time, Malfoy Sr was a very high-ranked individual. He could have essentially bought his way out of legal trouble and get himself back to his old position of power, and no one would be able to stop him. There was nothing we could do. Not to mention that Fudge would have sacked us if we tried.'

'Understandable,' said Harry sincerely.

They sat in silence for a few moments, taking in each other's information. Harry wasn't surprised about Fudge's position. He did not like the man, and he had known that he would have saved Lucius Malfoy's neck if it meant protection. For all Harry knew, Fudge could be a Death Eater; nobody at the Ministry ever thought to check forearms, or they would have known that at least ten employees and employers were all Death Eaters sent by Voldemort.

'Well, Mr Potter,' said Scrimgeour, looking up at Harry, 'we've discussed your falling out, the secret behind Voldemort's power, the Ministry's corruption and the state of the world. Is there anything else you would like to bring up at all today?'

'Yes, there is,' said Harry. He smirked a bit as he said this. 'I would like to discuss overthrowing Fudge from his spot as Minister.'

'I beg your pardon?' asked Scrimgeour, clearly shocked.

'You heard me correctly,' Harry stated, and his dead green eyes seemed to sparkle a little. 'As we both know, Fudge has been Minister for far too long. Voldemort is no closer to defeat than he was when he regenerated ten years ago, and there is far from enough being done in regards to the Death Eater onslaught. As I can see through my scar almost every night, the Malfoys and the Lestranges are dominating any fighter who comes against them, and plowing through our defenses. That's not to mention the other hundreds of Voldemort's forces out there. I'm sure there's more outside of Britain, but we should focus on Britain first. We need to bring down his forces.'

'I thought you did not want to fight back?'

'I'm not doing this for the wizarding world,' said Harry, rubbing his scar again; he was starting to feel something, but he couldn't tell what it was. Was it anger? 'They can go to hell for all I care. I'm doing this because I have a score to settle with Voldemort. He took the lives of my parents, and he's made my life a living hell since I was fifteen months old. I'm not going to let him live after everything he's done to me. I know the Ministry won't arrest me because I took down their threat; they sure as hell want me fighting him.'

'I wouldn't trust those words so much, Harry,' murmured Scrimgeour.

'And that's one more reason why we should overthrow the Minister.'

Scrimgeour sat back a little, mulling over Harry's words. It was true: there was far from enough being down in regards to bringing down Voldemort's forces. The general public seemed more interested in Harry's state than in Voldemort's, and this wasn't going to help at all. With a new leader, they could possibly bring the world back on track to ridding themselves of Voldemort.

But who was Harry thinking of as the new leader?

'All right, Harry, let's say for a minute that you managed to overthrow the Minister,' said Scrimgeour, coming to a decision, but still needing affirmation. 'Who would you think of to take Fudge's place?'

Harry looked at Scrimgeour with a bit of impatience.

'I thought that would be obvious,' he stated, a bit of a grin on his face. 'I was talking about you, Rufus.'

Scrimgeour didn't look surprised by this, but he did raise an eyebrow.

'Is this only because I am helping you out, Mr Potter?' he asked.

'No, not really,' Harry replied, a little affronted at his words. 'I thought it would be obvious to you, but I'll explain. I wouldn't trust, say, someone from the International Statute of Secrecy Department, since they obviously don't see much of the war. It's the Aurors who are doing almost all of the fighting. We both know that the Order of the Phoenix does little more than throw in a defense against the Death Eaters. The thing is, this only holds them off, and then they come and fight back, creating the same situation all over again. We can't have that anymore.'

'You're contradicting yourself again, Harry,' said Rufus with a bit of amusement.

'No, I'm not. Like I said, I don't care about the general public, but I'm not heartless. I'll do what I have to do to destroy Voldemort and bring down his army, and then I'll go somewhere where nobody can ever bother me again, while keeping very few contacts in this area of the world. My friends are here with me, and if all goes well with the Minister position, I might keep in contact with the Ministry. That is a large maybe. I haven't forgotten their part in my imprisonment.

'But this is bigger than the world's deceit. We have to make sure Voldemort falls, and stays down. We can't do that with the Order's way. They seem to think that as long as they keep defending who or what ever the Death Eaters are attacking, the world will be fine. As you can see, they aren't too bright. Their defense processes are only slowing Voldemort down, but slowing one down and stopping one in their tracks are two different things. We need a way to bring down all of the Death Eaters, at the same time if possible.'

'You've done quite a bit of thinking into this, Mr Potter,' said Scrimgeour, who was clearly impressed with the young man before him. 'And I quite agree with your analogy on the Order of the Phoenix. If you want me to run against Fudge, I would do so happily. Pardon my lack of modesty, but I do think I'd be a much more efficient leader on the whole.'

Harry laughed. 'Don't worry, I know you would. I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of a fighter, a warrior. I know the look only too well.'

Scrimgeour nodded. He had seen the look as well. It was an almost dead look in the eye. Harry carried it with him everywhere he went; it was a permanent fixture in his eyes, which had long since stopped shining with light. They were dark now, and Scrimgeour knew that Harry would have to use the Dark Arts, even if only to a small extent, to finish off Voldemort.

'So, how do you plan to overthrow Fudge?' asked Scrimgeour with interest.

'I'm going to use my fame against him,' Harry said calmly. Scrimgeour looked shocked; he had heard that the man hated his fame tremendously. Harry laughed at this. 'Oh, I do hate it. That doesn't mean it doesn't have its advantages. It was Severus who suggested it, actually. He mentioned that I have enough fame to bend the world to whatever whim I choose, as far as truths and mistruths go. I quickly saw his reasoning. If I can use my fame to bring Fudge out of office, even if I don't like using it, it'll be worth it. Then I'll support you.'

'Most people would probably expect you to stay out of politics,' commented Rufus.

'Most people don't know what I live through, and probably only think they know the real me,' shot back Harry. 'Nobody in this world aside from you and perhaps a few others, like the ones who stayed by my side before, know the real me.'

'Very true,' conceded Scrimgeour. He stood up. 'Well, Mr Potter, we have been discussing these issues for a good half hour now, and I do believe it is time to stop. I trust you will stay in touch?'

'Of course, sir,' said Harry, also standing. They shook hands. 'I will write to you with a date and time for a second meeting. I do believe we have a lot more to discuss in regards to bringing Fudge off of his high horse and out of office.'

'Indeed. I shall see you then, Mr Potter. Take care.'

'You too, Mr Scrimgeour,' called back Harry as he left.

Scrimgeour sat back down, pondering what to do next. He would send a letter to the _Daily Prophet_ to broadcast his intentions, but only after he had planned on what to do in taking down Fudge. _It won't be that hard,_ he thought. _There's enough evidence against him, if only someone would call upon it._

Deciding that he had done enough for the day, he picked up his traveling cloak, fastened it under his chin and walked out the door, shutting it behind him

------------

Harry walked through the halls of the Ministry, looking for the lift. He had every intention to go to the Department of Mysteries right now.

Over the last two days, he had done some research on the archway, and he had learned that it was in fact a type of purgatory, a way in which a person was trapped, unable to die, but unable to live. This confirmed what he had hoped for: that Sirius was still alive. And he was going to make sure that Sirius came back the way he went in.

Finally locating the lift, he noticed with dismay that there was a fireplace right beside it. He knew that Daphne and the twins would want to come with him; in fact, he dreaded it. This was something he wanted to do alone, but he figured that since he had, in a way, promised Daphne that he would let her come, he couldn't deny her the right. And Fred and George couldn't be beaten in an argument, so they'd come as well. But if anyone else wanted to, Harry was prepared to use magic to stop them.

Grabbing a bit of Floo powder, he threw it into the fireplace, stuck his head inside it and called out, 'Number Sixteen, Spinner's End.'

He had been through the Floo Network before, but it was nothing like this. His head was the only thing that left the fireplace with the fire; his body remained right where it was. He could not feel heat from the green fire. As he stopped spinning and spinning, he saw the living quarters of Severus' home, and he knew he had succeeded.

'DAPHNE! FRED! GEORGE! COME HERE A MINUTE!' he shouted.

A moment later, the three of them appeared, dressed in black robes and looking very decent.

'What ails you, Harry?' asked Fred jokingly.

'Yeah, what's with the shouting?' George added coyly.

'Now's not the time, mates,' Harry shot back, impatience creeping on his face, and Fred and George fell silent. Daphne kneeled down so that she was able to see Harry's face clearly, and Harry looked at her. 'We need to get moving. We're going to the archway. You said that you didn't want me doing it alone, so I'm taking you with me.'

'You're going now?' Fred asked incredulously.

'YES!' shouted Harry impatiently, and Fred and George sobered up. 'I'm not waiting any longer. I want my godfather back, and I'm going to get him back. The rest of the world can wait, or better yet, get off their arses and fight for themselves!'

'Point to Potter,' said George, grinning madly.

'So are you coming or not?' Harry asked irritably.

'Yeah, we'll be there in a second,' said Daphne, tying back her hair, 'but you're going to have to get out of the fireplace.' She reached up and scooped a handful of Floo powder into her hand, while Fred and George copied her. Fred waved his wand at the table and a letter appeared on it, while George and Daphne aimed their handfuls of Floo at the fireplace. 'Out of the way, Potter!'

Harry nodded and pulled his head out of the fireplace, feeling dizzy afterwards. The whole rushing feeling was new to him, and he doubted that would change in a hurry. A moment later, Daphne stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off her robes. Fred and George were quick to follow.

'Let's go,' urged Harry, 'we don't have a lot of time until the Ministry decides to close for the evening.'

The others nodded and took off after him, as he had dashed into the lift as he spoke. Slamming the button for the floor he knew lead to the Department of Mysteries, he tapped his foot angrily, waiting for the lift to hurry up and get there. A minute later, the lift doors opened, the cool female voice rang out, 'Department of Mysteries', and Harry took off towards the black door he knew lead into the department; he had dreamt about the door all too often to forget about it any time soon.

Daphne, Fred and George weren't far behind him. They had reached the door, and wrenching it open, they saw the circular room with a dozen-odd doors leading every which way. As soon as the door had closed behind the four of them, the wall circling them began to move, rotating around them, and Harry knew that it was going to try and confuse them. He had no time for that.

'SHOW ME THE DOOR TO THE ARCHWAY!' he roared, his patience level breaking.

What followed could not be explained by any of them. The wall stopped rotating to the left, and instead began rotating to the right. It stopped when it was back to normal, and the door to the left of the door across from them shined a bright red color. Harry knew it was the right door.

'This is it,' he said. 'Let's go, before the doors decide to mock us again.'

They sprinted over to the red door and burst through it, and Harry had to stop himself almost in midair to stop himself from falling. The staircase was just as narrow as it had been before, leading into the room so far below. At the bottom of the room was what they were looking for. Harry knew this. It was one night that he would never forget, no matter how much time had passed by.

He motioned for the others to follow and then jumped off the staircase, falling to the bottom of the room. Before he hit the bottom, he raised his wand and shouted, '_Wingardium Leviosa!_' on himself, letting himself fall gently towards the ground. The others imitated this process and landed alongside him.

The veiled archway was standing in front of them, eight feet high with a veil that looked like it was made of a spiritual power. It seemed to float there, as though nothing was holding it up but sheer energy. Harry looked into it, transfixed, for a second, as though something was holding his attention, along with the rest of his body, in place. And then he heard the voices.

'_Welcome, living mortal...'_

'_We are the spirits of the long deceased...'_

'_We are the damned...'_

'_But we are the ones who were saved from death, who await your rescue...'_

Harry was shocked. The others, who were staring at him as though waiting for him to speak, didn't seem to hear the voices, yet they were clear as day to him, as though spoken through a steamy mist.

'There are voices coming from the veil,' said Harry, who turned back to the archway. The others followed his gaze but saw nothing except the veil. 'There are others who are alive in there. It's not just Sirius. And I think I heard Sirius' voice; it was multiple voices speaking all at once...'

He turned towards the others.

'I don't know what you're thinking, following me into this, but if you want to go back, now's the time. There's no point in all of us going if it leads to our deaths. If I go alone, at least the rest of you will live on.'

'You're mental,' exclaimed George.

'Do you really think we'd leave you with possible death?' asked Fred incredulously.

'Forget it, Harry,' said Daphne stubbornly. 'We're coming with you. We're not leaving you to face whatever's in there alone. But just in case we do risk dying in there, here's some good luck for both of us.'

And she reached up, standing on her toes, and kissed Harry full on the lips.

George gasped, and Fred wolf-whistled, which rang throughout the enormous room they were standing in. Harry, however, was mind-shocked. Daphne did not pull away, and he instinctively put his arms around her and kissed her back. The only time this had happened to him was with Cho Chang, and he knew without even thinking that this topped his failed relationship ten years ago.

After a few moments, she pulled back, a faint blush on her face – the same blush she had worn whenever she had walked in the kitchen of Severus' house while Harry was awake. And then Harry realized what she was thinking.

'You planned that, didn't you?' Harry asked, still shocked at what had happened.

Daphne smiled, almost like a grin, and looked up at Harry, her eyes meeting his. Her gaze was all that Harry needed for his answer.

Realizing that he had become distracted, Harry turned back towards the archway. The veil was floating upwards again, and beyond it, Harry saw blankness, almost like outer space, only purely white. And then something strange happened.

Purple mist was slowly forming inside of the archway. It was swirling, like a spinning dial, until it began to twirl clockwise, and then look like a black hole. And Harry knew what it was at once. It was a portal into the world beyond the archway.

That is, if there was even a world beyond the archway, or anything at all for that matter.

'We have to enter the portal,' said Harry. 'Beyond it lays the area where Sirius is. I'm willing to bet this archway was built for this reason: to find people lying in Purgatory and bring them back to this world.'

'That doesn't make sense,' commented Fred.

'Yes, it does,' shot back Harry. 'It's the only theory I'll ever give Dumbledore credit for. It was his idea with the Mirror of Erised. I'll bet you anything that's where he got it from. If you want something – not to use the reward, but to help people – it would appear. Back then, I wanted the Stone not because I wanted power, but because I wanted to stop Voldemort. Well, we don't want to use this archway negatively, but we want to bring Sirius back, don't we? I think that qualifies as helping people, or in this case, a person. And the portal appeared, so I guess that proves that.'

'Two points to Potter,' George said, and Harry rolled his eyes.

'I'm going in now,' said Harry, and he turned back to the archway for the third time, and reached his hand into the portal. It passed through as though it were made of vapor.

Swallowing a breath he wasn't quite sure he had, he closed his eyes and walked directly into the portal, letting it consume him. As though his body were being broken into tiny particles, he was transported out of the realm of the living, passing through Merlin knew where.

He wasn't sure where he was, and he didn't know if his body would still exist in this new world, but if he could help Sirius, none of that mattered to him.

------------

Harry regained consciousness with the realization that he was all alone. He wasn't sure where he was. He didn't even know if this non-existence could be described as "where". It looked blank, like space, to him.

He stood up, and it was only then that he realized that he had his body. He looked over his body and gasped, which came out as a type of screech. He wasn't a human any more, that was for sure.

He was a Hippogriff.

Except he was the strangest-looking Hippogriff he had ever seen. Instead of the color he had always known Buckbeak, Hagrid's old Hippogriff, to sport, he was jet-black in appearance. His talon-toed feet were a gold color, and his eyes were green. Somehow, he knew what color his eyes were, but he did not know how.

Was this a non-reality, a place where knowledge floated around like thoughts?

He didn't know how useful it would be, but he imagined himself as a Hippogriff, wondering what it would be like. And then the scenery changed.

What had once been a blankness that was purely white was now a perfect image of a lush green clearing. The sky was clear as could be, without a single cloud in the air, and the sun, which looked more like a reflection of itself, hung in the sky gracefully. A small pond stood not far from where Harry was standing, and he walked over to it. Standing in front of it, he stared at his reflection. He had been right. He was a jet-black Hippogriff, with green eyes and gold talons. His wings seemed to spread about ten feet wide when both were stretched. He looked over the water, which went on for about a mile or so; he couldn't really tell. He was far from sure where he was supposed to go from here. This world seemed much different from the world he knew, yet so similar, and he knew this was some form of replicate of an area in Britain. He just didn't know what part of Britain that was.

For the first time since he had seen his new Hippogriff body, he wished he was human again.

What followed felt utterly strange. His body began to morph, his bones reconstructing, and his wings folding and disappearing into his body. His beak and talons turned into a face and hands and feet, and his body went back onto two legs rather than four. His long hair fell back behind his shoulders, rippling to a little below shoulder-length, and surprisingly clean. He kneeled down to look at himself, and gasped.

He seemed to be in perfect health. His eyes, as he could now see, sparkled with the life they had seen before Azkaban, and no part of his body was bruised or cut in any way. Even his robes felt new. He wondered if this world was like the Room of Requirement, a room at Hogwarts that adjusted to your every need. It felt like it.

He then noticed something lying facedown over the water.

He stood up again, looking straight out over the lake top. There was no way possible that someone was lying on top of water, was there? But then, he wasn't quite sure this land had laws of physics, or whatever wizards called physics... he couldn't remember off-hand...

He took a step forward, waiting to see if his foot would sink through, but it did not. Maybe the ground was charmed to look like a lake? He couldn't tell, but he wasn't sinking, so he decided to continue. He slowly made his way to where the man was lying facedown.

The man...?

He saw that it was Fred Weasley. He had fallen in along with Harry. But where were the others? How could he even tell that it was Fred, if he and George looked the same? Even Molly Weasley couldn't do that.

Harry didn't care about that right now. He was determined to help Fred. Whipping out his wand, which appeared to be longer than before, he pointed it at Fred and whispered, '_Enervate._'

Fred began to stir around, and then push himself up. He got into a sitting position, and he looked around, taking in his appearance, which was similarly unscathed. He then noticed Harry sitting beside him and looked around again, as if wondering where the others were. Had they been lost in the void?

'W-Where's Daphne? Where's Fred?' he asked drowsily, looking around him.

_Wait, Fred? So this is George? How did I mix them up?_

'I don't know,' replied Harry. 'I only got up a few minutes ago. I started off as a Hippogriff.'

'A Hipp-_what?_' asked George, clearly confused.

'I don't know, either,' said Harry, looking around the clearing, which seemed to be getting darker; apparently time moved faster in this world, too. Was it already almost evening? 'I woke up and realized that I wasn't quite... human. I looked over my body and saw that I was a Hippogriff, jet-black in color with nice green eyes. Somehow I morphed back.'

George nodded, not really taking in what Harry was saying. He wanted to know where they were right now, and where his twin brother was. Harry could tell with ease.

'We'll find them, George,' he said, and George looked at him, wonder in his eyes. 'We have to find them. And then we'll find Sirius, and then we'll get out of here.'

'Where is here, anyway?' George muttered aloud, looking around again. The scenery had changed again, and it was now dark around them, as though night had fallen. Harry was wondering all of this himself. This world, whatever it was, made little sense, and he wondered what was controlling it.

'We're in some sort of parallel dimension,' Harry said. 'It's almost like Britain again, only different. Time moves faster, we're standing on water, Daphne and Fred are nowhere to be found, Sirius is out there somewhere, the sky is _red_,' he had just noticed the sky in full for the first time, 'and I'm pretty sure there's a Dementor gliding towards us.'

George nodded at all of this, and only five seconds later did he look up with a horrified expression.

'_A DEMENTOR?_' he shouted.

The Dementor was flying right at them, its arms outstretched, and looked as though it would try and grab at them with its disgusting claws. Harry was ready for it. He raised his Basilisk venom wand, pointed it at the Dementor's chest where its heart should have been, and shouted, '_Expecto Patronum!_'

A silver jet of light shot from Harry's wand, but this time, it didn't take the form of a stag, as it had always done in the distant past. It mutated, taking the shape of a silver Hippogriff. With its long wings spread wide, it shot at the Dementor, tearing through it. The Dementor went flying through the air and vanished into shadow.

'That was new,' said Harry, shocked at this.

'Well, we can't call you antler-head anymore,' commented George, looking mockingly saddened. Harry chose to ignore this.

'We'll probably run into more Dementors along the way,' he said seriously, and George nodded, his overly sarcastic demeanor dropping instantly. 'Can you produce a strong Patronus?'

'Strong enough,' said George. 'It won't fall easily.'

'Are you able to cast multiple Patronuses?' asked Harry.

'Well, yeah, Severus made sure to teach us how when it was clear we would be facing and holding back Dementors during a lot of our missions,' said George. 'The Muggle world can't fight them, and I don't think the Ministry pays a whole lot of attention to the Muggles.'

This made Harry's eyes darken a little, and he looked down. Through his anger, he realized that they were no longer standing on water. It was solid ground now. What the hell was up with this world?

'Right, well, we need to get moving,' said Harry, looking at the sky, which was still dark red, as though some sort of apocalypse was falling. The sun was rising, and Harry shook his head a little; this world confused him greatly. He wondered how Sirius was able to live like this... if he was still around in this world. He shook his head from those thoughts.

Motioning to George, he said, 'I'm going to turn back into a Hippogriff. I think it's something like an Animagus form in this world. Then you climb onto my back and we'll find out where Daphne and Fred are. Use the Four-Point Spell if you have to. I think it always points north, so we'll head west; whenever it points to the right, we'll be going the right way.'

'Do you know how to fly?' George asked.

'It shouldn't be too hard,' promised Harry. 'I've done harder things in my life than this. If I can focus to turn back into a human, I can focus to turn into a Hippogriff.'

George nodded.

'All right,' said Harry, 'here goes nothing.'

He concentrated all of his energy, all of his willpower, and all of his strength into turning into a Hippogriff again. For over a minute, nothing happened, and just as he was about to give up and call it quits, he felt his body mutating again, just as it has before.

He grew steadily larger, at least twice as big as he normally was, and a good foot longer. His black hair and robes molded into his body like shadow and his body began to morph. Wings sprouted from his back and he landed on all fours. As he transformed, he began to scream in pain as the bones within him began to crack under the strain, then repair as Hippogriff bones. Then his face sprouted a beak and his yell became a squawk, almost like a raven's. Moments later, the transformation was finished, and he stood on all fours, a jet-black Hippogriff with Harry Potter's green eyes.

'Not bad, Harry,' said George, looking amazed at the sight of the creature in front of him. 'I don't have to bow to climb on top of your back, do I?'

The Hippogriff looked at George threateningly, and George moved back a bit, visibly frightened. Then the Hippogriff did the closest thing to a human laugh it could: it squawked repeatedly.

'You bastard,' muttered George mockingly. 'All right, move your wings.'

Harry spread his wings outward and George climbed on, easily six feet above the ground now. It slightly amazed him at how big Harry was as a Hippogriff; he had gotten used to the skinny Harry. 'Let's go, Hippy!'

Harry reared up on his hind legs, and then took off in a sprint, going straight towards a lake.

'Don't you dare!' yelled George.

Harry spread his wings further as they got closer, and when they touched the edge of the lake, he jumped into the air. Beating his humongous wings, he flew upwards, higher and higher, until they were at a high point in the sky, enough to see people below.

'Incredible!' shouted George over the sound of the wind beating under Harry's wings. 'This is way better than flying by broomstick!'

Harry merely squawked in acknowledgement and agreement. He was enjoying it as much as George was.

They soared for miles, looking anywhere they could, desperate for any sign or sight of Fred and Daphne, but the two were simply nowhere to be found. Harry wondered if this parallel world was just that: a parallel version of the whole world. If it was, they could search for weeks without luck. He vowed to keep trying. It wasn't like the other words expected his help anytime soon.

_They can all go straight to hell,_ he thought, his Hippogriff eyes scanning the other areas of the skies. _If you can't describe that world as hell right now, that is._

'Harry, heads up! Dementors!' yelled George, shaking Harry out of his stupor.

Harry looked around, his green eyes scanning the area. There were at least a dozen Dementors swarming at them, able to float against the wind without need of broomsticks or flying animals. Though he did quite know how he knew, he knew what to do at once. Raising his head higher into the air, he let out an enormous squawking.

Several more flying creatures joined them in the air, but they weren't Dementors. A horde of Thestrals had flown high into the air, their faces covered with animal fury, their claws sharpened and ready to strike. One of them flew at the nearest Dementor and slashed it to pieces, causing it to dissimilate into shadow. It reformed itself at the back, completely healed, and continued its flight.

George, meanwhile, was firing Patronus after Patronus, aiming them at the Dementors at the back, but it was no use. The Dementors sidled the Patronuses and kept flying at them, unaffected by the pure happy energy.

Harry suddenly had an idea on how to counter them. The only problem was that he didn't have a way of communicating the idea to George in any language that George would understand, and since they were in the air, he could not transform. An idea formed in his head, and he tried it.

'_George, can you hear me?'_

He was speaking through his mind, and he could only hope that it worked.

George had been firing unsuccessful Patronuses by the horde, but it was still no use. One of the Dementors raised a sickly hand and batted one of George's silvery lions away, not affected in the least. At that point, George looked up, confused.

'Harry? Was that you?' he called out.

Harry silently triumphed – _it had worked!_

'_Yes, it's me,'_ replied the Hippogriff. _'I'm speaking to you telepathically, through my mind. I have an idea for the Dementors. Ripping them apart does nothing, and positive energy seems to fuel them, but I have an idea.'_

'What is it?' George yelled.

'_Send negative energy at them. It might drive them back.'_

'The Patronus only works with positive energy!' cried George.

'_When have you ever not taken risks, Weasley? Just try it! We're finished either way if you don't! You have nothing to lose!'_

George had to admit that Harry had a point. They really didn't have anything to lose. Whatever these Dementors were, they weren't affected by positive energy. They seemed to _enjoy_ it. George knew that wouldn't work.

Raising his wand, he concentrated on the most horrible memory he could think of. He knew the one almost immediately – it was a day he would never forget, even now, twenty years later. He let this memory consume his mind as he yelled, '_Expecto Patronum!_'

A little wisp of silvery vapor shot from George's wand, but dissolved into nothing immediately. George swore out loud in anger, and tried again. Waving his wand at the Dementors, he shouted, '_Expecto Patronum!_'

This time, a small jet of silver light shot at one of the Dementors, but it merely knocked one Dementor backwards, which was quickly reversed when the Dementor sped up to regain speed. One of the Thestrals, the same one that had attacked the Dementors at first, flew straight at the offending Dementor, and right before it was able to slash at it, the Dementor raised a hand and sent a burst of magical energy at the Thestral, blasting it away with ease. The poor creature with looks only for those who have witnessed death fell from the sky, landing in a river below, and did not reemerge.

This was the last straw for George. He had liked Thestrals, ever since he had first been able to see them at the age of eighteen, and watching one's destruction was too much for him to bear. He would not bear it. Raising his wand one last time and thinking about his hated memory, he screamed, '_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_'

A huge jet of silver shot from George's wand, and to George's shock, awe and horror, it took the form of an enormous Thestral, galloping at the Dementors. The real Thestrals cleared out of the way, knowing that this silver creature would not stop for them. The silver Thestral raised its head, opened its mouth, and sent a wave of silver light at the Dementors, which blew all of them to smithereens. Only one reemerged, having not been affected much, but the Thestral flew and tore through it, its shreds fading into nothing. The silver Thestral galloped and disappeared into thin air.

'_Excellent! You got it!'_ yelled Harry through his thought-speak.

George grinned wildly; he did not quite know why he was so taken with Thestrals, but they interested him greatly. If he could have one as a pet, he would. In fact...

'Harry, land for a minute,' said George. 'I have an idea.'

The Hippogriff looked confused, but nodded, flying into a descent towards the ground. It touched down right next to a small mountain. According to the sky, two days had passed in this world.

George got off as soon as they had landed and moved away from the Hippogriff, who transformed back into Harry at once.

'What's wrong, mate?' he asked. 'You were great out there. Why are we landing?'

The other Thestrals landed all around them, taking to eating some of the grass as they waited for their new friends to go back up. Harry ignored them, looking at George and waiting for an answer to his question.

'I'm going to try transforming,' said George. 'I'm going to try becoming a Thestral.'

'Is that even possible?' asked Harry, who looked shocked at this exclamation.

'That depends,' answered George with a little irony in his voice, 'was it possible that you could turn into a Hippogriff at will when you're not an Animagus, Harry?'

Harry shut up at this.

'I didn't think so,' said George. 'If this doesn't work, I'll fly on you again. Now let's go!'

He gathered all of his willpower and concentration around him, and let it consume him, take him over. He allowed himself to be lost in his will, to take the form of a Thestral. To _become_ a Thestral.

Puffs of smoke were gathering around George, who did not seem to realize it, and his body began to change. His robes smoked, becoming more ragged, and hung from his body. His long red hair seemed to disappear, replaced by a bald, ragged head. His face sprouted a beak that was as black as his body was becoming, and his eyes turned dark, scanning everything around him. With a jolt, he fell to all fours, his hands and feet becoming talons, and wings sprouted from his back. A moment later, a fully formed Thestral was standing in front of Harry, who was looking at it in awe.

'_Pretty impressive, eh, Potter?'_ smirked a voice from inside Harry's head.

Harry shook himself out of his shock with even more shock at these words.

'You can mind-speak too, George?'

'_Of course I can! If you can do it, why shouldn't I be able to?'_

Harry merely smirked and avoided comment.

'All right, Weasley, have it your way. Hold on, I'm coming.'

For the fourth time, Harry felt his bones change shape and his body morph as he became a Hippogriff. A moment later, he spread his great wings and flew off into the horizon, George on his tail.

------------

_**Earlier that day... or night...**_

_Where are we?_

Those were the words that plagued the mind of one Daphne Greengrass as she awoke, holding her head in pain. She had been perplexed at the sensation of passing through the veil's portal, having been split into particles to pass through, but she did not know what had happened after that. Whatever had happened, she did not want to know. As long as she was still alive, she was fine.

She stood up, brushing dust off her skirt, and looked around. Wherever she was, she knew it wasn't anywhere in Britain. She looked up. The sky seemed to be a dark shade of crimson. What was going on?

_Am I even alive anymore?_

She pulled out her wand from the pocket of her robe and began to walk, taking in everything she saw. _It's like an opposite reality,_ she thought with awe. _Only I don't much like it. Where are Harry and the others?_

She had been walking for hours when she finally reached a clearing. Brushing her matted black hair out of her eyes, she looked up. She was standing on a cliff, looking out over a clearing that stretched out for miles. The sun seemed to be setting on the other side of the clearing. It was an amazing sight to behold, and Daphne took it in, amazed and mesmerized by it.

Such was her distraction that she did not notice when another voice yelled out from somewhere behind her.

'_Expelliarmus!_'

The light hit her hand and her wand went flying from it, falling somewhere below, off of the cliff. She tried to grab for it but missed, and she watched with horror as her wand fell over a hundred feet toward the ground.

Furious now, Daphne spun around to find her attacker, but with no luck. A moment later, two more spells were sent out, and Daphne found herself lying on her side on the ground, tied up at the wrists and ankles, with a Silencing Charm applied on her. Struggling, but with no avail, she looked up.

A man was standing in the trees, wearing a long black cape over what looked to be a dress shirt and trousers. His long black hair cascaded over a white mask which covered his face completely. Dark eyes stared out of it back at her, and she gulped with fear.

_Oh, shit..._

'Well, well,' said the man with a small sneer, 'it looks like I won't be on my own anymore, doesn't it?'

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Author's Note:

If I didn't end here, I would have gone on forever, and I needed to go to bed soon, so I needed a cut-off point. If I didn't, you wouldn't be getting an update until the 12th or 13th.

Yes, I know, another cliffie of sorts. You should know by now that I love cliffies. Hope you enjoyed this installment!


	6. Chapter 5: Behind Silver Masks

Author's Note: The following will be in Italics: Parseltongue, thoughts, flashbacks, letters, spells and dreams. Anything else incorporated with Italics will be duly mentioned.

Author's Note: Any additional notes, such as characters and spells made by me, will be duly mentioned. I'd rather not be accused of stealing, thank you very much.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish to the contrary, JKR owns this world. I'm just messing with it.

Full Summary: Harry Potter was accused of the murders of his relatives, and thrown into Azkaban. Nine years later, he was released. With the threat of Voldemort looming over the world, can Harry put aside his differences and save the world from Voldemort for good? SlightlyDarkHarry, eventual HPDG.

**Chapter Five: Destiny Denied**

_**Unknown, 2005...**_

The skies of the world beyond the veil were clear, but day and night seemed to fly by as though heightened to a speed tenfold its normal rate. The two newly transformed wizards had been flying for hours, or days, at this point, and while it felt like so much shorter, it _looked_ so much longer. It was hard to determine exactly what it was, but Harry Potter's new animal sense seemed to think it had only been about three hours since they had gotten rid of the Dementors. How the Hippogriff within knew this, he was not sure of, but he trusted it. It had saved them from the Dementors, that was for certain, by being able to fly for so long without rest. Only one more horde had attacked them ever since, and they had been left behind easily as the Hippogriff and Thestral were far, far more agile.

Harry had long decided that the time in this world simply moved ten times faster than it did in the real world. At least four days in this world had passed by now, if the speed of the sun was any indication, which meant that at least ten hours had passed since he had crossed through the portal leading into this world. There was no way of knowing if this was true or not, but it seemed a fair estimation to Harry. He had no watch, so he had nothing but instincts to rely on in this case.

There was still no sign of Fred and Daphne, and certainly no sign of Sirius. Harry was sure he saw the bodies of the wandering dead around other areas, but nobody he recognized. He wondered if they were actually dead, and not simply trapped in limbo, like Sirius was. This made him wonder if he'd see his parents in this world. It was a thought that somewhat terrified him, since he would not only be technically older than his parents, he'd be seeing them for real for the first time in almost twenty-four years (he didn't count the echoes of the Priori Incantatem). Not to mention the fact that Harry knew James' hatred of Severus, and that was not something he wanted to discuss with his father; after all, Severus had become a friend of Harry, and James would not like this one little bit, not even if it was his son, who had grown up without James and Lily for almost his entire life.

Now he wondered why he cared what his parents would think, when the people they had sided with had betrayed him so long ago. He still loved his parents, as only he could, but their opinions and their beliefs could go to hell as far as he was concerned.

Scanning the skies with his green eyes, Harry saw that they were coming up to a large city. It looked remarkably like London. He didn't want to stop, and he told George as much.

'_That's fine,'_ responded George, who was not bothering to look over at him, but instead scanned the city. _'There's nothing in Parallel London for us to see anyway. It's almost empty, from what I see.'_

He was right. When Harry swooped down and looked at the streets, he saw that they were completely empty aside from one or two people, who looked to be wanderers of the world. He shook his feathered head impatiently, wondering what other surprises this world held for them. There was no one here. Nobody was appearing out of the shadows, and no one was calling out to them.

_Well, we are animals,_ he reminded himself. _I'm sure Daphne and Fred aren't expecting that._

He ascended again, rejoining George in the air, and picked up his speed. George, who had the incredible speed of a Thestral, was easily able to keep up. They continued their search, knowing how little time they had; the real world was still in danger, and Harry was worried for Severus and the others. He knew they could defend themselves, but he wasn't sure what Voldemort was planning, as his scar seemed to be nonexistent in this world; it had not throbbed once since he had come here.

------------

_**Unknown, 2005...**_

'Well, that was painful,' muttered one Fred Weasley to himself as he stood up and brushed himself off. 'Do I not have scars anymore?' He ran his hand over his face, feeling nothing but unmarked flesh. 'Well, what do you know? It's like my body decided to heal itself. At least I'm not naked...'

Fred looked around him, unsure of where exactly he was. It all looked so familiar, yet so different. Looking up, he saw that the sky was a crimson red, and a dark one at that, and the sun was actually moving at a speed that the eye could detect.

'Time is faster in this world,' he commented under his breath. 'Then how effing long have I been unconscious?'

He looked around him again, and noticed that the surrounding area was a peculiar sight, as though he were underwater; everything was swishing a little.

'I can't breath underwater, can I?'

He pulled out his wand from his pocket and muttered the Levitation Charm on himself, bringing himself up into the air so he could see around him. The scenery looked as though it could stretch on forever; whatever this place was, it might have been some sort of alternate version of the real world.

'Where are you, brother?' Fred whispered. 'I can barely feel your presence right now. Is this world blocking our bond as twins? Are you... still alive?'

He let the charm falter and fell, landing on his feet. Conjuring a broomstick, he hopped on and took off towards the east, hoping to find his brother and the others.

It was several hours later that he was passing through some sort of town, and he realized with a jolt that it looked exactly like London.

'George!' he shouted through the streets, as he landed his broom in the middle of the road and shouted into the world around him. 'Harry! Daphne! Where are you guys?'

There was no answer, no calling reply. He was all alone. There was no one else in the world around him, and he couldn't stand it. He was used to the presence of all kinds of other people, and whether he enjoyed that presence or not, he certainly missed it now. As it was, there was no one returning his yell, and his eyes, for a moment, stung with tears.

Suddenly, a shadow swooped over him, and he looked up.

A Hippogriff was flying overtop him, except it was the most peculiar Hippogriff he had ever seen. It was jet-black in color and easily bigger than any normal Hippogriff as far as Fred knew. It seemed to be looking for something. Its eyes were scanning the ground, as though it could see everything below it. Fred wondered if it had the intelligence of a human; it seemed to be a lot smarter than any Hippogriff he had seen in his life.

'OY!' shouted Fred. 'DOWN HERE!'

The Hippogriff, however, did not notice, and it soon took off into the sky again, joined by a Thestral. The two creatures flew together to the east and out of view.

Fred cursed loudly.

'IS THERE ANYBODY HERE?' he screamed. 'HELLO? ANYBODY? WHAT IS THIS PLACE?'

No sooner had the words left his mouth, a cackling laugh was heard from somewhere to his right, out of his line of sight.

'Ahaha! Yeh be in the land of the dead, lad! There ain't anybody here to hear yeh scream.'

Fred spun around, letting his broomstick fall to the ground, and pointed his wand at the source of the voice. A cloaked figure was walking out from one of the alleyways, leaning on a long wizard cane, his hood concealing his face. A gleaming dagger was fastened to his belt, which was covered by his cloak; Fred could see the gleam of the silver.

'Who are you?' Fred demanded, holding his wand with both hands, and keeping it directed at the cloaked man. 'What do you want with me?'

'I don' want nuffin', son,' sneered the old man, holding his cane tightly and leaning slightly on it. 'I be havin' everythin' I needs where I be standin'. You ain't lookin' so bad. I's wonderin' what yeh're doin' here in the land of the wandering damned.'

'That's not your concern,' spat Fred, disgusted at the man's appearance, which seemed to be rotting. He must have been over a hundred years old. Long, dirty white hair hung from inside his hood. 'Who or what are you?'

The man laughed again.

'I's a wizard, jus' like yeh are, yeh ignorant fool,' he cackled, and he pulled the dagger out of his belt and held it at his side, his long, sickly fingers keeping a tight grip on it. With his other hand, he pulled off his hood magically with his cane. 'Yeh wants to know my name? Yeh got it! I be Morfin, the son o' Marvolo Gaunt! I am an heir teh Slytherin!'

Fred's insides froze over. This man was the son of Marvolo Gaunt? He had heard about the Gaunts from Blaise Zabini, who had researched them a few years back. Morfin was the brother of Merope Gaunt, who was the mother of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

This man was Lord Voldemort's uncle.

'I'm not afraid of you,' shouted Fred, though he sounded a little afraid. This man was easily four times his own age from the way he looked and also looked as though he were an ancient mage. He wondered if that was what the man was. 'Though I wonder why you look like you're a hundred years old, when you supposedly died while your nephew Riddle was only a teenager. You're not that many decades older than he is.'

'I'm only 'bout sixty years old, yeh stupid blood traitor,' laughed Morfin. 'This is me body decayin'. I be much younger an' much tougher than I be lookin' righ' now.'

'You don't look all that tough,' snapped Fred.

'Care to take tha' bet, fool?'

Fred moved back a little, allowing space for a duel, and Morfin Gaunt sneered.

'You're on, Gaunt,' Fred yelled.

Morfin Gaunt jeered, and leapt backwards through the air as though he could fly. He landed on his feet a good fifteen feet away from where he had stood, and he raised his cane.

'_Serpensortius!_' he hissed.

A long black figure erupted from the tip of his wand, throwing itself to the ground in front of him. It was at least twenty feet long and about three feet round. Its eyes were yellow, and its serpentine figure curled and uncurled, hissing at Fred, who was rooted to the spot in surprise.

_He's a Parselmouth,_ Fred thought with horror. _This isn't good._

Morfin was hissing at the snake, in some sort of speech that Fred could neither understand, nor recognize. He knew it was Parseltongue, and the knowledge that he was right terrified him to his very skin.

The snake suddenly lunged at Fred, easily covering the distance between them, its fangs dripping with venom. Fred reacted instinctively. He non-verbally summoned his broomstick and jumped on, dashing into the air.

Morfin merely smirked.

The snake sprang upwards in another lunge, and grabbed the end of Fred's broomstick with its teeth. It hung off of the broom, and Fred felt the extra weight upon it as he was pulled down a little. Morfin had his wand pointed at the snake and was muttering something in Parseltongue, and the snake was steadily getting heavier.

_Oh, no, you don't,_ Fred thought angrily. Pointing his wand right in the snake's face, he snarled, '_Depulso!_'

The snake was banished, removed from the broom with a fast-paced smash into the ground below.

'_Evanesco!_' called George. The light hit the snake, and it smoldered until it vanished into thin air, its ashes blown away. Morfin looked at the snake as it vanished, and his twisted grin also disappeared, replaced with a snarl.

'You dare destroy my snake, the pride of Salazar Slytherin?' he roared, his lack of proper English skills forgotten as he sprung his wand on George. 'Suffer, blood traitor! _Crucio!_'

Fred stood up on his broom and jumped off just as the red light smashed into it, blowing the broomstick to smithereens. The red-headed twin fell to the ground and landed on his feet, breaking his own fall. He stood up and brandished his wand at the old Slytherin descendent, to find that he had disappeared.

'Behind yeh, fool!' cackled Morfin.

Fred spun around again, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morfin toss the gleaming dagger with a sweeping motion, aimed right at Fred's heart. He had not a moment to waste.

'_Depulso!_' he cried.

The knife was halted in midair and flung back in the same direction. It shot at Morfin, the same way it had shot from him, and struck Morfin right in the heart.

Morfin sagged, his chest covered with his own blood, as the knife tore through his body, coming to a halt on the ground behind him, now red as well as silver. Morfin gave a yell and staggered, leaning on his cane. His face was hidden by his long, filthy hair. Then Fred heard him snicker.

'Yeh fool,' Morfin whispered, standing up straight again, his hair still covering his face. 'Did yeh think it would be that easy? Yeh have no idea how this world works! The damned are immortal here! Nothing yeh throw at me will work!'

Even as he spoke, Fred could see his body healing itself, the hole in his chest closing, and his clothes reforming with his skin. He flung his hair out of his face with a flick of his head, and Fred could see with repulsion that he was grinning. The wound closed, his clothes and skin healed, and he was perfectly fine again. He conjured another dagger magically.

'I s'pose if I can' throw it at yeh,' sneered the old man, 'slashin' yeh to bits will work well.'

He raised the dagger and, against his own words, threw it like a flying wheel at Fred, who deflected it with a Shield Charm. He spun on the spot to evade the forced momentum of the dagger and shouted, '_Impedimenta!_'

Morfin was blasted backwards by the force of the spell, but he caught himself in midair, floating ten feet above the ground. He spun his cane in his hand over his head, brought it down to point at Fred's face, and shouted, '_Crucio!_' Fred just barely dodged it, having to throw himself from the path of the spell, which smashed the ground around it. Morfin laughed; he was enjoying the torment. He spun his cane in front of him, never letting it stop, and a barrage of Stunners flew at Fred in waves, propelled by the spinning wheel that was Morfin's long cane.

'Can yeh take that, scum?' Morfin sneered.

Fred pointed his wand upward and covered himself in a full-body shield charm, and Morfin's spells slammed into his magical wall one by one. It was beginning to give way, and Fred knew he had seconds before it would vanish and he would be pelted by stunners. Then he had an idea.

He brought down his wand, letting the shield stay put, and Disapparated from the spot. The shield fell and the ground inside its perimeter exploded with the force of a bomb from a tight barrage of spells. Fred reappeared on a small building nearly on level with the flying Morfin, who was still laughing. He let his cane stop spinning and held it at his side. Then he twirled and vanished, reappearing five feet to Fred's left.

'Not bad,' cackled Morfin, leaning on his cane again. 'Yeh managed to hold equal wif the heir o' Slytherin. But yeh intrigue me, boy, an' it makes me wanna stop fightin' yeh for t'moment. Why is it yeh came here?'

'I'm on a rescue mission,' Fred said quietly, suppressing his intense fury; the impact of the stunner barrage had injured him a little. He pointed his wand at Morfin. 'What do you know about Sirius Black?'

Morfin looked a little confused.

'A Black, yeh say?' he said. 'I know there was another Black somewhere in 'ere, but his name ain't Sirius.'

'I thought this world only held those who were trapped in limbo between life and death?' Fred demanded, not finished with his silent interrogation yet. He pointed his wand at Morfin, who looked amused at this. 'Are you even dead?'

'O' course not,' laughed Morfin, and as he spoke, his appearance became less ragged and more of the appearance Fred had known from the Morfin that Zabini had shown him. He still had long hair, but it was a grey-ish color now, and his skin wasn't as sagged. 'I created a Horcrux before I passed on. It saved me from death, but kept me here. I be a guardian to this world, in a sense, while m'father guards another part of t'world, an' me sister jus' lies aroun' somewhere in here.'

'You created a Horcrux?' Fred said incredulously.

'O' course I did,' said Morfin dismissively. 'All o' the Gaunts did, 'cluding my sister, Merope.'

'Then why are you here and not still in the living realm, like your nephew?'

'Cause my nephew – Riddle, did yeh say? – created enouf Horcruxes t'keep himself alive in the living realm. We only ever created one each, an' as such, we were trapped in limbo for eternity. We don' much like it, but it saved us from death. Out o' all o' us, Riddle apparently feared death the most. 'Tis pro'bly 'cos o' hell that he did create all them Horcruxes, I be thinkin'. I'd like to pass on, meself. I lived long enouf.'

'Is it possible for you to pass on?'

'Yeah,' grunted Morfin, 'yeh'd have to destroy the Horcrux I made though, and I dunno where it is anymore. It's been moved.'

'Did Vol- er, Riddle, move it?' Fred asked, despite himself.

'Think so,' Morfin said gruffly.

Fred thought for a moment. This sounded like something Harry could use as information, unless he already knew. Voldemort, for the moment, was an immortal wizard.

'He's callin' 'imself Voldemort is he?' Morfin sneered suddenly. 'The arrogant fool... thinks he's better than everyone else, I s'pose? Usin' me father's name to boost his own ego; what a fool he turned out t'be.'

'He wanted his name feared among wizards and witches,' Fred said, 'and he hated his own father's name, which was Tom. So he took the letters of his full name and fashioned himself the name Lord Voldemort with its letters. "Tom Marvolo Riddle – I Am Lord Voldemort".'

'Me sister gave him that name for a reason,' said Morfin quietly. 'She expected him to respect his father, whether he was Muggle or wizard.'

'I thought you all hated Muggles?'

'Not me sister. She was differen' from me n' me father. She was one of you blood traitors.'

Fred took note of this and filed it away for later use – he knew that Zabini would love to hear about this. The young man loved studying up on Slytherin history to find out about Voldemort, or any other Heir of Slytherin.

'So what now?' asked Fred quietly, not bothering to look at Morfin. 'Are you still going to try and kill me?'

'M'eh,' said Morfin uncaringly, 'I don't have a reason to anymore, now I know who yeh are an' where yeh stand. Yeh want to travel round the world beyond the veil, be m'guest.'

'Got it,' said Fred, conjuring another broomstick and mounting it.

'One more fing,' said Morfin, looking up at Fred, who had begun to rise upwards into the air. 'If yeh need me for somethin', call me name wif the Sonorus Charm, an' I'll hear it. I be hearin' anyone who needs m'help and calls for it in this world.'

'Sounds good,' said Fred, whose respect for the man had grown in the last ten minutes. He knew now that Morfin only wanted peace in his mirrored world. 'Thanks again, Morfin.'

Morfin merely grunted, before twirling and Disapparating. Fred took this as his que to return to his mission, and he took off, in the hopes of finding Harry, George and Daphne.

------------

_Where is this guy taking me?_ Daphne thought unhappily several hours – or days, in this world – later.

She was sitting in a magical cage, with her wrists and ankles still tied together, and couldn't move. The Silencing Charm was still applied to her so she couldn't speak either. The cage was sparking with magical lightning, and if she touched the bars, she'd be zapped. She'd learned this when she had first struggled. She had wisely decided to stay still after that, at least until she was able to find a method of escape. Without the ability to use wandless magic, she was a sitting duck.

_This sucks,_ she thought angrily.

The man who had caught her was up ahead, riding a black stallion. He had not removed his mask; Daphne assumed that he didn't want to risk his identity. She idly wondered if he was someone she knew, or thought she knew. There weren't many people in this world, so she probably didn't know this person. He might have been a wandering person trapped in limbo, just like countless others she had not yet seen in this new world.

The ride itself was very dull. After she had been bound and thrown in her cage, the man had fastened it to his wagon, attached that to his horse, and had taken off. It had been days in this world since that had happened. She wondered how much time had passed since they had thrown themselves headlong into the portal. She was getting annoyed with her current imprisonment, but as long as she had a Silencing Charm on her, she couldn't voice this. Even if she could, she knew it wouldn't be smart to try it. That masked man wasn't the one in a magical cage.

They looked to be crossing a field right now. The sky was still crimson red, and the sun was still moving at a speed she could see. It was insane to her. It was as though time simply did not wait patiently for people in this world. She wasn't sure what she thought of this. Sleep was severely cut into for her – she had not even slept yet – and she had no idea where her wand was anymore, so she couldn't Disapparate.

_This guy thought of everything. He must know just how to capture prisoners, the bastard._

From ahead of her, she heard a snort. 'It's not a practiced art, miss.'

Had she been able to make a sound, she would have gasped. Nobody had been able to read her mind for some time now. It was simply unheard of. She had it so well protected that outside intrusion was almost impossible.

_He must be one powerful Leglimens._

An hour passed by, and she saw a small cabin ahead of them through the bars. It looked to be quite the home, though it was small. _Not bad, I guess. I probably won't get a grand tour, though._

The masked man parked his horse outside of the cabin and jumped down, pulling out his wand as he landed. He pointed it at the cage, which floated out of the wagon and was gently laid on the ground beside it. He flicked the wand once and the top of it disappeared. Another flick caused Daphne's bindings to vanish and her Silencing Charm to disappear.

Gasping for a breath she had long since held, she stood up and pointed a long finger at the man, shrieking, 'What did you think you were doing? I'm not some possession!'

'Never said you were, misses,' said the man darkly. 'You're my ace-in-the-hole right now.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

The man sighed.

'Look,' he said, 'you're with Potter and those Weasleys. I could see as much in your mind. You're also not from here. You're from the living world. Right now, you're in a form of purgatory run by the Gaunts, who are more or less immortal. Time flies by fast because that's how the world was set up. There's a global population here of maybe fifty people at most.'

'Only _fifty _people?' Daphne gasped, grasping her chest with shock. 'How in the hell – ?'

'Did I not just tell you that this is a limbo-type world?' said the man impatiently, cutting her off. 'Most people die, but those who are less fortunate fall down here. You chose to come here to find a man named Sirius Black, did you not?'

'I-yes,' said Daphne, resigning herself to the fact that she could not Occlude herself from the man.

'He is down here,' said the man, 'but he is somewhere else in the world. Well,' he added, 'the darkened version in this world.'

'But enough talk for now. I have something I need to do, and I can't have you running around. I might need you, and until then, you're not going anywhere.'

'You can't just keep me prisoner!' shouted Daphne, affronted by this.

'Watch me,' said the masked man, waving his wand; Daphne was suddenly raised into the air, her arms and legs pinned to her sides. 'There are no rules or laws down here. This is purgatory. This world is ruled and governed by no one. Gaunt may watch over the world, but he doesn't restrict us, and that's why we can do whatever the hell we want here.'

He walked into his cabin, directing his wand so that Daphne floated in behind him. The innards of the place were quite small, with only three rooms. The main room was by far the biggest, and had the most in it. A small couch, an armchair and a table sat around the perimeter, with a couple of bookcases with all kinds of books lining the walls, and a long pole that ran from the ceiling to the floor stood near the opposite wall. The masked man waved his wand, and Daphne floated towards the armchair and was seated on it. The man waved his wand again and Daphne was fastened to the chair by magical straps.

'So now what?' she spat. 'Will you be keeping me under wraps for my entire stay?'

'Of course not,' said the silver-masked man, sounding affronted at this. 'This is only a precaution; since I don't know you, I can hardly trust you to stay here while I'm gone. I'll be back in a few days.'

'A few _days_?' yelled Daphne in scandalized tones.

'Days, hours, however you refer to them in the living world,' snapped the man impatiently. 'I think it's something like six hours in the real world, two and a half days here. Now I must be off, I have someone I need to find.' He threw a Silencing Charm at her again, and for the second time, she could not speak. She glared at him. 'Have a cozy stay.'

He turned around and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The room was steadily getting darker, and Daphne knew it was getting to sundown. Heck, in five minutes it would be pitch-black. Daphne slumped back in her chair, wishing she could speak, but unable to break the charm.

_Come on, Harry,_ she pleaded in her head, _where are you?_

------------

Harry and George had been flying for a long time, and they were still having no luck in finding their friends, and in George's case, brother. It was beginning to get on their nerves, and even their animal forms were not pushing down their anger.

'_Did they hide themselves permanently or something?'_ Harry thought-asked impatiently an hour or so later.

'_I guess they must have,'_ was George's reply. _'We haven't seen heads or tails of any of them in a long time now. How much time do you think has passed in the real world?'_

'_Merlin only knows,'_ muttered Harry.

They continued flying. A good part about their forms was that they seemed to float through the air; neither of them was tired. Their wings were large, and did not become fatigued easily. They had all the time in this world to find their friends in this world, while in the other world, something would be sure to happen soon. Harry still couldn't feel Voldemort's presence in his mind, but he knew that Dumbledore would soon know about their disappearance. The meddling old manipulator made it his business to know everything about those he considered his personal weapons, including and especially Harry, and Harry would see to the end of that when the time came. For now, he wanted Sirius back.

Another Dementor horse appeared, and George acted at once. Boosting his speed so that he could fly directly over Harry, he took a dash and then transformed, landing on Harry's back as a human. Wasting no time, he whipped out his wand and thought about his most hated memory, the day he had tried the Unbreakable Vow on his own brother.

'_Expecto Patronum!_' he shouted.

The silver Thestral shot from George's wand, aimed at the Dementors, who dashed out of the way. George's Patronus would have none of that, however, and shot silver light at the Dementors at once. The Dementors were blown backwards, but came back at them, only a few of them vanishing.

'_Watch out for these ones, George, they won't back off easily,'_ Harry mind-spoke.

'They're not getting me,' George shouted. 'I'll fend them off! _PROTEGO!_'

One of the Dementors had flown right at George with its hands outstretched, and George's Shield Charm forced it backwards, bouncing it into the next Dementor and halting both. The other eight or nine continued at George.

'Crud,' muttered George.

He waved his wand, and non-verbally shot some sort of silver jet at one of them. It tore right through the Dementor's stomach, leaving a large gaping hole, which oozed out black liquid.

'_Dementors have blood?'_ said Harry, astonished.

'Apparently they do,' said George, agreeing with Harry. 'No wonder they're so dark. Even their blood is dark. Oh well.' He swiped his wand through the air twice, and two jets of silver light tore through two more Dementors. 'I didn't want to use this spell, since it's actually Fred's creation and we hadn't tested it yet, but it seems to work better than the Patronus since it doesn't burn my energy.'

'_Fair enough,'_ conceded Harry, who spread his wings further and snapped at one of the Dementors with his beak. The Dementor in question was pulled in and flung through the air. George fired another jet of light at it and it exploded.

'I could do this all day,' said George, who was grinning madly. He swept his red hair out of his eyes and fired another, which narrowly missed another Dementor – there were only five left.

'_You might have to,'_ yelled Harry into George's mind. _'Here comes another horde!'_

George looked around. There were four coming from his left and six from his right. He swore aloud and raised his wand again, only to have another Dementor rip it from his hand and fling it away. Another Dementor formed some sort of electric shadow ball from its hand and fired it at Harry, who was hit between the wings. He immediately began to descend.

'_I've been hit!'_ Harry shouted. _'We're going down!_'

George didn't wait for another warning; he immediately jumped off of Harry's falling body and transformed into midair, taking flight before he touched the ground. He flew up underneath Harry.

'_Transform, quickly!'_ George all but screamed.

Harry was now barely conscious, but he seemed to have enough energy to transform back. A second later, his human body was back, and was falling from the sky. George flew directly beneath him and Harry landed limply on George's back.

'_Don't worry, Harry, I've got you,'_ shouted George. _'Try and hang on!_'

But it was no use: while George's Thestral form was quite fast, the dozen-odd Dementors had caught up and were keeping speed. They continued firing shadow balls at George, who had to swerve again and again in midair to avoid them all. _This won't hold up for long,_ George thought desperately. _How in the hell are we supposed to escape this?_

Then, suddenly, his silent prayer was answered in the form of an incantation:

'_ZEPTIUS REFLECTO!_'

An enormous silver shield made of pure magical energy appeared around George, who, for the moment, looked shocked. Harry, who was barely conscious, did not respond, but merely laid limply on George's back. Then George saw another figure flying by broomstick towards them, a silver mask adorning his face.

'Keep flying, kid!' the masked wizard shouted. 'This shield will hold!'

It looked to be true, as the shield was holding up against the Dementors. They fired shadow balls at the shield, but all of them were absorbed by the shield, which seemed to feed off of the added power. Two Dementors swooped at the shield and tried clawing at it, but the shield vaporized them and they were burned into ashes.

'This shield is all but impenetrable,' yelled the wizard. 'You dark monstrosities won't get your grimy hands on them with this protecting them. Have at THIS!'

The masked man raised a long wand and began hacking and slashing at the Dementors, who were sent flying one by one by waves of grayish-silver light. The man seemed to be in his prime as he fought off the rotten creatures.

At last, there was only one, and it was surrounded by an aura of shadow. The man fired off another wave of gray light, but the Dementor raised its hands and blocked the attack.

'A smart one, are you?' the man sneered. 'No matter, you won't last long.'

The advanced Dementor seemed to think differently, for he raised a long-fingered, gnarled hand and shot off two dark jets of light, which tore at the simmering shield the man had conjured and blew it off. The masked man swore out loud and shot off another wave of light, which the Dementor dodged easily.

'You don't give up, do you?' snarled the man, angry now.

George wanted to help, but he had Harry to worry about, so he flew down toward the ground and waited for the man to finish. Upon landing, he looked up. Neither was gaining any advantage on the other. Then, suddenly, a jet of silver light that seemed to come from nowhere tore through the Dementor's chest, and it exploded into particles. Both the masked man and George looked over. Fred Weasley was floating on a broomstick, his wand trained on the spot that the Dementor had been floating in moments before.

'I don't know who you are, mate, but mind explaining why this whole world is crawling with Dementors?' yelled Fred, descending to a level of height to match the masked wizard.

'Can't be explained,' said the man. 'This whole world is warped. You'll have to get used to it. Even Gaunt can't do anything about it, and he owns this world.'

'Morfin?' asked Fred. 'He said he ruled this land, yeah. Or do you mean Marvolo?'

'I mean both,' replied the masked man. 'By the way, your brother's below us, as is the Potter boy.'

'George and Harry?' shouted Fred. 'Hold on, I'm coming down!'

He bent low on his broom and zoomed down towards his brother and his friend, with the masked man in tow behind him. He jumped from his broom before he landed and he ran towards the Thestral, who had his brother's dark eyes. He then saw Harry unconscious on his brother's back. With the help of the masked man, he heaved Harry off of George, who transformed back immediately, and gently laid him on the ground. He looked peaceful in his unconscious state.

'Should we revive him?' asked George, who took his wand out again. 'Use _Enervate_ or something?'

'Leave him be,' replied the masked man. 'He deserves a bit of rest. He did, after all, out fly about sixty Dementors, give or take a dozen, and then fell a hundred feet or so, after being shot in the back. He needs the rest.'

Fred and George looked at each other, nodded, and looked at the man before them.

'Who are you?' asked Fred, pointing his wand at the man.

'Yeah,' said George, who also pointed his wand at the wizard, 'who are you?'

'We don't recall seeing you before –'

'- And we're the ones who know about nearly everyone –'

'- In the wizarding world,' they finished in unison.

The man sighed, raising his arms in surrender. Both twins looked a little surprised, but neither lowered their wand. They had this man in their power, and they weren't going to change that.

'I would have told you who I was later,' said the man, 'but I guess I have to now.'

And with one fluid motion, he tore off his mask.

Both Fred and George nearly dropped their wands in shock. Unfortunately, the biggest reaction came from the one who was supposed to be unconscious. Harry, who had just sat up, caught sight of the wizard standing before them and almost fainted again.

'_Sirius?_' he asked incredulously.

The man laughed, a very different laugh from what they knew was Sirius's bark of a laugh; it was cold and empty.

'No, lads,' he said, 'I'm his brother, Regulus.'

------------

_**August 28th, 2005...**_

Albus Dumbledore was not having a good day. In fact, he was downright unhappy. He had heard that on the twenty-sixth of August, Harry had been in a meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour, and the two had discussed different issues for a good hour long. Harry had not left the Ministry that day. It was now the twenty-eighth. Dumbledore wondered where Harry had gone to. If he had tried to flee using the help of Scrimgeour, Dumbledore would have to do something about the old Auror. He still needed Harry, after all, to fight against Lord Voldemort. He would not have the young man fleeing now of all times.

He and the other members of the Order of the Phoenix were currently assembled in his office, discussing what needed to be done. Their first order of business was, to some of their anger, finding Harry.

'Albus, why are you so desperate to find him?' demanded Hermione Weasley nee Granger, who was clearly impatient.

Dumbledore sighed irritably. He had addressed this issue multiple times already.

'As I have said, Miss Weasley, there is a chance that Harry is the only person capable of defeating Lord Voldemort. As we are gathered as a group dedicated to the destruction of Lord Voldemort, we need Harry. If he does not agree to help us, we will have to bring him in with other methods. His disagreement does not hold much water – he is needed in this war.'

'And that's what we don't agree with!' snapped Arthur Weasley, who looked angry, which was quite a change for the normally jolly man. Dumbledore did not flinch. 'You don't seem to understand the fact that Harry is now an adult, and fully capable of making his own decisions! This isn't like it was before he was carted off to Azkaban, when he was only fifteen and we had to decide for him! What part of that don't you understand?'

'I think it is you, Arthur, who doesn't understand the big picture,' said Dumbledore coldly.

'Then explain!' snapped Alastor Moody, which made Dumbledore flinch; Moody had been showing signs of disagreement with the Harry Potter issue a lot lately. 'You refuse to tell us the full story, Dumbledore! Why don't you finally tell us why Potter is needed to win the war? You haven't done a good job of it yet, with only a little hint of him being the only one to kill Voldemort.'

'That is a matter between Mr Potter and myself,' Dumbledore replied coolly.

'Clearly it is not, if Potter won't even so much as give you the time of day,' Moody shot back.

'This isn't up for argument, Alastor!' snapped Dumbledore angrily; most of the Order backed off a bit at Dumbledore's sudden anger, but Moody did not, and neither did Ronald. 'It is not your concern what happens between Harry and I. Should you wish to know is your own business, but you will not be finding out from me.'

'So what are we supposed to do to help this war, or even survive?' yelled Ronald. 'Wait for Potter to come back to us? We don't even know where he is, Albus! Unless it has escaped your notice, he's vanished off the face of the earth!'

'Yes, Mr Weasley, I have noticed. This is why we are gathered. We need to find him.'

'And that brings us back to the point in which you won't tell us WHY we need him so badly!' snapped Hermione. 'We ARE members of the Order of the Phoenix, are we not? Surely this is not a dictatorship where one person gets all the authority and all the answers while everyone else follows calmly like sheep! In case you haven't noticed, Dumbledore, that's how Voldemort runs his Death Eater community!'

Everybody gasped at these words. Many people, like Molly Weasley and Elphias Doge, looked at Hermione furiously, while others, like Moody and Arthur, glared at Dumbledore. It seemed to be a split in the Order; each half was angry at a different person.

'I am disappointed at your accusation, Miss Granger,' said Dumbledore sadly, and he did not meet Hermione's eye this time. 'Unless my hearing is losing itself in my one hundred sixty-five year old state, I do believe you accused me of being just like Lord Voldemort. I assure you, I stand against everything he represents.'

'I'm aware of that, Headmaster,' said Hermione, with less venom in her voice. 'But the ends do not justify the means, as you seem to think! Harry isn't a pawn or weapon to control, or to hone, against Voldemort. If he doesn't want to work with us, we have to respect that. We're to blame for his hatred of the wizarding world anyway. I've told you that before, and if you won't listen to my word, that's your damn problem!'

She stood up, tears in her eyes, and walked away. Moody was quick to follow her, but just as he got to the doors, he turned around.

'I stand to agree with everything Granger just said. Consider this my two weeks notice,' he barked, and left the room, leaving everyone inside feeling that much more hopeless.

There was a silence that held for about five minutes, though it felt like hours to everyone present. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, looking weary. Arthur was looking as though he could use a pain-relieving potion; he was clutching his eyes. Ronald, however, looked angry.

'We're in for a long few years,' muttered Dumbledore, hoping nobody had heard him.

Unfortunately, no one's hearing was dimmed.

------------

_**August 29th, 2005...**_

'Arise, Lucius,' hissed the voice of Lord Voldemort from his spot on his throne.

A trembling man clad in black robes and a silver mask stood up, trembling from head to toe. Gathering what seemed like impossible willpower, he walked up to his master's robes, dropped again, and kissed the hem of the robes. He then walked back to his spot and stood very still.

'Lucius, you disappoint me,' hissed Voldemort, who looked far older than he was. 'You have still not located your son, Draconis. Why is this, Lucius?'

'My Lord, it seems that my son has hidden himself among blood traitors,' said Malfoy, who looked all but terrified; he had disappointed Voldemort a lot lately. 'I have sent him a letter reminding him of his place, but he has not answered. I have no way of knowing if his letter has even arrived to him. He appears to be under the Fidelius Charm.'

'Your son is a fool,' snarled Voldemort. 'Does he not realize that he is denying his blood purity and his family name to scum and filth?'

'I am aware, my Lord. As long as he does not come back to us, I do not consider him a son.'

'And rightfully so!' snapped Voldemort, who stood up. 'Your family is full of disappointment, Lucius! Your wife, who does not seem to know which side she is on; your son, who has rejected his own life position for half-bloods and blood traitors; your father, who succumbed to a simple disease!

'You repulse me, Lucius! This pain you shall feel is rightfully earned!' He raised his wand, hissing, '_Crucio!_'

Lucius struggled to remain standing, hoping to prove that he could bear the pain, but it was an impossible task; his body felt as though it were on fire, with knives sticking into it from all sides. He could not stay standing; he fell to his knees, but held his tongue. If he screamed, he would probably be killed for weakness.

After three minutes, Voldemort lifted his curse, and Lucius stood up weakly, looking deadened.

'You have earned this pain, Lucius,' Voldemort hissed. 'Never forget that. Now leave my presence at once, and redouble your efforts to retrieve your _son_.'

'Of course, my Lord,' said Lucius with as much strength as he could muster, and he left the chamber at once.

Voldemort turned around, facing a long mirror behind his chair, and put two fingers to his eyes in frustration. He could not deny that he was irritable. Usually, he felt nothing but anger and fury, but right now, he was simply irritable. Turning around, he clutched the back of his chair with his spidery hands, and looked at the other person assembled for the meeting.

'I must confess, I am still amazed that you have joined us,' he hissed, his red eyes narrowed on the portly man before him.

'I serve no one but you, my Lord,' replied the short, portly man, who did not touch his silver mask, nor his hat, which Voldemort was repulsed to look at but said nothing about. 'I will do whatever you ask.'

'See that you do,' said Lord Voldemort, who walked around his throne and stood at the top of his alter, looking a little impatient. 'I want you to discredit our little friend Harry Potter further. For now, making his name trash among the wizarding world is all we need do of him. Use your immense influence of the _Daily Prophet_ and make sure that everybody in the world hates our dear friend Mr Potter. We will break him yet. If we can turn the wizarding world on Potter, we can bring him down. Not even his friends will be able to help him. As for Severus Snape...' he trailed off a little, his eyes narrowed with fury, '...he will suffer for his betrayal.'

The short man bowed, walked forward and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

'It shall be done, my Lord,' said the excited, quivering voice of Cornelius Fudge, before he stood, bowed, and walked out of the chamber at Voldemort's careless dismissal.

------------

_**Unknown, 2005...**_

'_You!_' hissed Harry, still feeling sick from the attack of the Dementor.

'Indeed,' said Regulus Black, who did not look the least bit disconcerted at Harry's angry look.

Fred and George heard the man reveal himself as Sirius's brother, Regulus, but neither of them could believe it. They had been told that Regulus had been a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's minions, and then became cowardly and tried to back out, with Voldemort killing him in the end. It didn't seem possible that Regulus could have been caught in a limbo between the living and the dead if he had bee murdered by the Dark Lord himself. Did it?

'If you were murdered by Voldemort, how did you survive?' asked George, a little coldly.

Regulus sighed. He had been worried about this. He had decided around the time he had found and taken the girl from the woods that he didn't want to explain, but if he had to, he would.

But not yet, and not in the open.

'It's a long story to explain,' he said impatiently, 'and this isn't a good place to start. I have a little villa not far from here, and there's enough room for guests. In fact, there's a guest there right now. Claims to know you, actually,' he added casually.

'What? You have Daphne?' snapped Harry, who stood up weakly and raised his wand.

'It's a way to ensure that you will follow me and let me explain myself properly,' said Regulus simply. 'Do not forget that this is a lawless land. You can do anything you want here without fear of retribution from laws. How else do you think you transformed, Weasley? And you, Potter, you transformed too. You both transformed into winged creatures, and neither of you are Animagus. Don't you wonder how this is possible?'

Harry shrugged; he had, in fact, passed it off as the strangeness of this new world. He had a funny feeling that, even now, Regulus was hiding something about them that they didn't know.

'Look,' snapped Regulus, 'just follow me, and then I can help you find my brother –'

'You know where he is?' demanded Harry at once.

'Of course not,' Regulus replied, rolling his eyes, 'if I did, he'd be here with me, wouldn't he? No, he's out there somewhere in this vast world, but where, I have no idea. But I do want to find him, and I have spent a good six years looking now.'

'Sirius has been down here for over nine years,' Fred pointed out.

'I didn't know about it until six years ago,' said Regulus, who was fiddling with his silver mask now. 'Now, enough of the contradictions. Follow me to my little cabin. You need to find your friend Daphne anyway.'

'How'd you know her name?'

'She isn't a very good Occlumens compared to me,' Regulus said simply.

_So he's a Leglimens,_ Harry realized. _That explains a lot. But I'm not going to let that interfere with the here and now. There's still answers I want and need._

'And you will get them,' said Regulus calmly.

Harry was about to reply, perhaps tell him that he himself was an expert Occlumens and therefore reading his thoughts was impossible, even though Regulus had just managed it, when some kind of energy attack hit the ground behind them, causing a small explosion.

Regulus reacted at once; barely taking the time to put on his mask, which was on in a flash, he whipped his wand at the sky and yelled, '_Leflamos!_'

A bright fire, purely silver, shot from his wand and flew right at a Dementor, who had been about to fire another shadow ball. The Dementor was engulfed by the flame and burned to a crisp. Another Dementor flew past the falling ashes of the first one; George, who had recovered, pointed his wand at the Dementor, shouted '_Silveus!_', and the silver jet of light he had been using non-verbally up until that point flew at the Dementor and tore through its chest, killing it.

'Not bad, Weasley,' said Regulus, lowering his wand but not looking back down. 'At least you realized that more than just Patronuses work on these Dementors. In fact, that silver jet you used works far better than the Patronus, because it doesn't wear you out.'

'That's what I said,' replied George, who was glad he had thought of it.

'Look out, mates,' called Fred. 'More are coming,'

However, it wasn't Dementors coming this time. Not Dementors alone, anyway. Each Dementor was floating through the air, each holding a rotting corpse. Each rotting corpse was holding some kind of weapon.

'What,' yelled Harry, 'in the HELL are those?'

Regulus, however, did not reply; he had gone purely white.

'Not those,' he yelled. 'NOT THOSE!'

He raised his wand again and pointed it right at the horde as a whole, shouting, '_Selvia Fortus!_'

The spell seemed to trigger something, but neither Harry not the twins could figure out for the life of them what it was. The ground had begun to shake a little, as though a small earthquake had started up. The tremor was centered on and around Regulus, who held his wand with both hands now. Then it came. The spell, which none of the others had recognized the incantation to, flew from Regulus's wand and shot at the corpses and the Dementors.

It was a curse, and a powerful one. It was a large wave of magical energy. It was purely silver. The wave of energy was ten feet long from side to side and flew with a blade-like curve at the Dementors, who dropped the corpses and struggled to defend themselves with magical shields. One of them fired a large ball of shadow at the wave, only for it to disintegrate uselessly. The wave struck the Dementors, whose shields were destroyed instantly, and sent them flying into nothingness as they were disintegrated. It continued on, eventually fading into the darkness.

The corpses had survived, however, and were now standing up from where they had fallen. Tall, short and average height, the corpses seemed almost like people, only with rotting flesh. There were a dozen of them. Six of them held swords, and six of them held wands. A thirteenth one fell to the ground, landed on its feet, and brandished a long, silver lance.

'What are those things?' Harry shouted again.

'Inferi,' yelled Regulus. 'I have a bone to pick with these murderous bastards.'

Waving his wand sharply, he conjured a long gleaming sword from nothing and held it, blade outward, towards the Inferi.

'Magic doesn't work on them,' he called out. 'In the real world, you could use fire to drive them away, but these ones aren't so easily defeated anymore. You have to disassemble them manually.'

At once, Fred conjured his own sword, while Harry and George transformed into their respective winged beast forms. Fred and Regulus, however, decided to stay on the ground.

'This world is infested with these types of creatures,' Regulus muttered. 'Even when you think you're safe, you're really not. They'll strike randomly, like they are now. But we can't let them beat us! Ready? GET THEM!'

Fred dashed forward, immediately drawing himself into battle with two Inferi with swords. The clanging of swords was heard throughout the entire battlefield. Regulus charged forward and, ignoring the lance, cut through the head Inferi with ease right through the waist. The severed body fell to the ground facedown, while the legs remained standing.

What followed looked ridiculous even in the serious situation they were in.

The legs of the Inferi sprung up and dove into a kick against Regulus, who conjured a shield wandlessly and blocked it at once. The accursed legs then, still in midair, began kicking at the shielded man over and over again, with Regulus struggling to defend himself.

Fred had beaten the two sword-clad Inferi and was now dodging odd-looking cutting curses being sent by the Inferi with wands, while Harry's Hippogriff form was hacking and pecking at the other Inferi. George was in the air battling two winged Inferi. His rotting form was able to withstand magical attacks; however, the Inferi were using some kind of fireball spells, and George could not withstand those.

'_I don't think so,'_ snapped George. Raising a clawed front foot, he smashed it into one of them, who broke into six pieces, fell to the ground, and lay there lifelessly. The sword fell point-down into another Inferi who had been battling Fred, and broke it into rotting gunk. George immediately charged at the other Inferi, who had raised its wand again, and tore through its chest and head with his beak. It fell to the ground, defeated, and exploded.

Harry, meanwhile, had torn apart two more Inferi, and was now flying away from a third one, who had taken the lance of the fallen leader. Clearly tired with the game, the Inferi swung its lance long-distanced at Harry's leg, and it missed by a hair.

'_That was close,_' Harry commented.

He raised a large back leg, which was remarkably like a horse's leg, and kicked the Inferi's head off. Its body continued on anyway, raising the lance again, but Harry wouldn't have any of that; he grabbed the lance with his talons, transformed back, and stabbed the head. The body immediately fell to the ground, lifeless as a rock.

Regulus was still being pummeled by the flying legs of the lead Inferi, who had begun using roundhouses, and Harry chucked the lance at the legs. It pierced both legs together and the severed half of the body was flung away. Harry then walked over, picked up a sword along the way, and stepped on the head of the lead Inferi, ending its reign.

There was only one left. Harry and Regulus raised their swords in unison and stabbed the last Inferi in the head as one. It fell to the ground and moved no more.

'Thank Merlin that's over,' said Fred, who was sighing with relief. 'Inferi in our world never took nearly this long to defeat. Praise to magical fire in the wizarding world.'

'We don't have time to celebrate,' said Regulus, who was back on his broom now. 'Quickly, follow me. I'd suggest Apparition, but none of you know the way there. Now come on!'

Filled with the stench of rotting humans, Harry and George transformed, Fred hopped on George's back, and they took off after Regulus, flying into the morning sun.

------------

_**Unknown, 2005...**_

The hours seemed like so much longer than just hours for Daphne Greengrass, who was quickly growing more and more annoyed at being held captive by an unknown assailant. Unable to move or speak, she could only look around her, seeing nothing special. There were only a few other pieces of furniture other than the chair she was tightly lashed to.

She had no idea how long it had been since the man with the silver mask had left. All she knew was that it had been at least six hours, but more than likely a lot more. The sun had risen and fallen at least twice now, that was all she knew.

Daphne could not deny that she was really hungry now. She wished she could at least talk. Being silenced by magic for so long left her throat dry. She couldn't utter a single sound, not even a cough. It made breathing surprisingly difficult, though that could be attributed to her fear of what was going to happen when the silver-masked man came back.

Without her wand, she couldn't do much. She was no expert in wandless magic. She needed her wand to defend herself. To top it off, having her arms pinned down to the arms of the chair wasn't helping matters.

She strained her ears, hoping to hear some sign of her friends that she knew would never come. She had given up hope on seeing Harry, Fred and George come when she had realized just how large this new world was. If she didn't know any better, she'd say they were still in their own world.

Letting her ears work their own magic, she could hear the distant sound of winds and some kind of splashing, but nothing that sounded like footsteps, and certainly not people. She noiselessly sighed. She had not expected anything more.

Five minutes later, she tried again. There was still no result. She wished the man would hurry up and come back. He had promised to untie her upon his return, and her legs were beginning to hurt, particularly her ankles. The straps were less than kind in the way that they pinned her ankles to the chair legs. Whoever this man was, he had known what he was doing when he had cast the spell that had her tied up. The thought was less than comforting to Daphne.

Again, she listened for sounds. The sound of beating wings seemed to be sounding out. It was strange. Were there Hippogriffs in this world, or perhaps Thestrals? Daphne struggled against the straps, wishing more than anything that she could move a bit, to get to the source of the noise. It seemed to be echoing from two spots near the house. She also distinctly heard the flight sound of a broomstick.

_Merlin, is this guy a trainer?_ Daphne thought to herself, wishing for at least the thirtieth time that she could call out.

The door suddenly flew open, and four people walked in. The silver-masked man was in the lead, obviously annoyed at something. But Daphne barely noticed him: she had recognized the three that were following him.

'You didn't mention that she was a prisoner in your home, Black,' hissed Harry Potter angrily.

_What? This man is a Black? But I thought Sirius was on our side? Unless he didn't recognize me; I don't think we've met personally... Oh, who am I kidding?! HELP ME, PLEASE!_

'It was a necessary precaution!' snapped Black, who looked angry. He did not remove his mask. 'I had no idea whether or not I could trust her to stay here, and I didn't want to lose a potential hostage! You are probably unaware, but there are Death Eaters in this world, and if the girl is the child of one of them, I have a means of defeating them!'

_Would you take the damn Silencing Charm off so that I can speak?!_ Daphne mind screamed.

If either Black or Harry had heard her thoughts in that instance, it went unknown, as neither commented on them.

'Untie her, Black,' snapped Harry.

'No!' shot back Black. 'Not until I have had time to explain the situation!'

'We just fought through an entire horde of Inferi and Dementors, and all you can think about is trust issues?' George yelled incredulously. 'We helped you when you went blank, and you still think we'd turn on you easily?'

'Everyone in my life has turned on me,' said Black angrily. 'Why should any of you be any different, even if you are friends and godson of Sirius?'

At this, Daphne lunged at her bonds, trying desperately to speak. Black sighed and pointed his wand at her mouth, and she burst into speech at once with jumbled-up words:

'What are you doing?- Why am I a prisoner?- How do you know Sirius?- What the hell is going on here?- WHERE'S MY WAND?- What did I do t-?'

'SHUT UP!' yelled Black, and Daphne fell silent, looking at him furiously. 'I took off the damned charm, but you're staying right where you are, and don't YOU,' at this he addressed Harry and the twins, 'try and take them off, because they can only be removed by me!'

'I'm a prisoner because you're unsure of who I am?' Daphne yelled angrily. 'That's also called kidnap, buddy!'

'You don't know who you're talking to, girl!' snapped Black.

'Of course I do!' shouted Daphne. 'You're some distant relative of Sirius Black!'

'I'm his brother, Regulus!' Black roared.

Silence fell at these words. Fred and George looked as though they had known this already. Harry, who Daphne knew would know about this already, had two fingers to his eyes, as though praying for patience. Regulus Black looked beyond pissed off. Daphne, however, narrowed her eyes and ceased all struggling against her bonds.

'You're his brother?' she hissed coldly, and at Regulus's nod, she added, 'But you're dead! I heard all about it from Severus! You were killed on Voldemort's orders!'

'Severus did not know the full story,' said Regulus, who had sat down on the couch opposite of Daphne now, looking reproachful. 'He was a friend of mine in the rankings of the Death Eaters. I didn't want him to know that I betrayed Voldemort. I didn't know how he'd take it.'

'I imagine pretty well, since he betrayed Voldemort as well,' said George quietly.

Regulus looked up, hope glistening in his eyes.

'Severus is no longer a Death Eater?' he asked, as though praying for an answer in the affirmative. George nodded. 'Thank MERLIN!' Regulus shouted, and he punched the air in a silent cheer.

Harry sat down, rubbing his scar; somehow, he could feel Voldemort again. He pushed this into the back of his mind as much as he could and said nothing. Daphne, however, had noticed, and this brought her back to her resentful attitude.

'Can I PLEASE get up now?' she asked.

Regulus, distractedly, gave a flick of his wand, and the bindings holding her down vanished. She immediately stood up, flexing her arms in relief, and then her legs. No one spoke. After a few moments, she looked at Regulus again, and held out her hand.

For a moment, Regulus was confused. Then Daphne voiced her request.

'My wand, Black!'

Regulus sighed, muttered a charm under his breath, and her wand flew from another room and into her hand. She gripped it tightly, forced out a thank you through gritted teeth, and sat back down, next to Harry.

'How did you get it back, anyway?' she hissed. 'You threw it off a cliff!'

'I was gone for over two days in this world, wasn't I?' Regulus pointed out, while he massaged his knuckles. He looked tired now. 'First thing I did was retrieve that wand. Simple Summoning Charm at the bottom of the cliff and huzzah! Wand retrieved!'

Daphne merely nodded, wondering why Regulus had gone to the trouble, and in turn, what had tired him out about it.

'Regulus, you said that there were other Death Eaters down here as well?' Fred asked.

Regulus looked at Fred and nodded. 'Yeah, they've been down here for at least three years in your time. I dunno what they're looking for, but they haven't come any closer. If you're wondering why this world is so empty, this is why. Those monsters, and their pet dragons and trolls and sphinxes and anything else under the son, have basically erased existence in this world. It once held many people from both living and purgatory, but they were wiped out as a whole. Just like I told Miss Greengrass here, there are only four dozen or so people left on this entire planet.'

'They committed _global_ domination?' Harry yelled horrifically.

'Yeah,' grunted Regulus, who was getting steadily weary. He looked down at his hands again. 'This place was attacked before. I was gone at the time. They got everybody in the village.'

'They didn't come back for you?' asked Daphne, despite herself.

'Nope, soon as I came back and found the place in ruins, I hid it with a spell that repelled anyone with a Dark Mark,' said Regulus. 'I figured that if the Death Eaters could use shields that rejected people without Dark Marks, I could make the opposite possible. It took three days in this world's time, which is about seven hours or so in your time, but it worked. They haven't been back in years.

'But I'm losing the point here. You see, the Death Eaters are looking for something in this world. I'm not exactly sure what, or who for that matter, in case it's a person, but whenever I run into them, I fight my way out until I'm able to escape. It's quite easy to escape the Death Eaters if you throw up the right barriers, but when they bring their mythical beasts, it's much harder to escape.'

'But you've managed to each time?' Harry asked, curiosity getting him now.

'Yep, it's not as hard after the first few times,' said Regulus. 'One of the ones down here is Rodolphus Lestrange, he's their leader. He's strong, but all things considered, I'm equal to him in skill. The rest of the Death Eaters are, by default, much weaker than both of us.'

'Are you looking for Sirius when you're out in the open?' asked George.

'Aye, I am,' was the reply. 'He's my brother, and one of the last people I expected to be down here; I always thought he'd die in battle. So, I'm looking for him to make up for lost time. We didn't have much of a childhood, either of us, and when we went to Hogwarts, he was with Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew all the time. Though, we didn't get along back then.'

'You know Severus, though?' asked Harry.

'Yeah, I do. I was a year below him in Hogwarts. He was friends with people like Avery, Rosier and Mulciber, so I didn't see him much. When I did, though, we got along fine. Severus doesn't have a problem with all Blacks, just Sirius.'

'Severus will have to live with the fact that Sirius is my godfather,' muttered Harry. 'Severus and I get along well now, but I wonder what will happen when I bring Sirius back... I know Sirius won't be happy to see Severus.'

'They will get along for your sake if they are both fond of you,' said Regulus distractedly, not really caring. 'Now, I imagine you want to know why I reacted so badly to the Inferi.'

'Well, now that you mention it –' began Fred.

'It would be nice if you told us, so that –' continued George.

'If we face them again, you won't run for the hills!' finished both twins in unison.

Regulus sighed again. He was really beginning to hate the Weasley twins. If it wasn't because of their annoying habit of speaking for each other and ending each other's sentences, it was because of their annoying habit of poking at his mind. They were clearly capable of extraordinary Legilimency, but Regulus was capable of Occlumency at an even greater level, and the poking was giving him a headache.

'It was the Inferi who caused my "death",' said Regulus quietly. All four pairs of eyes looked at him. 'Myself and my house elf, Kreacher, went into a cave on the sea to bring down one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. I intended to use a locket that I had been given years before as a fake, whilst taking the real one. I did not intend to survive, as Slytherin's locket was submerged in a powerful poisonous potion that slowly killed the drinker. I drank the potion, goblet by goblet, until it was empty. Beforehand, I ordered Kreacher to keep me drinking the potion, and to switch the lockets when I finished. Then I ordered him to leave immediately afterwards and take the Horcrux with him. He left me to die, as I ordered him, but not before watching as I was grabbed by Inferi and pulled down under the cursed water in the cavern. It was like a lake that surrounded the small rock with the poisoned basin. The continued dragging me underneath until I couldn't breathe anymore. My last regret before I would face death was that I could not bring down Voldemort for good. Somehow, my regrets were answered, because a portal opened up at the bottom of the lake. It sucked both the Inferi and me into it, and then closed. We all fell into this world. The first thing I noticed when I got here was that I was completely healed. I destroyed the Inferi that had dragged me under, but they continued to come back, until I was forced to flee. This was about twenty-five or so years ago in your time. You guess how many have passed in this world's time.'

'Over two hundred, at least,' said Harry.

'At least,' concurred Regulus.

Neither spoke for a few minutes.

'We need your help,' said Harry softly, and Regulus looked up, surprise in his eyes. 'I'm looking for Sirius. He was one of the only people I trusted before my imprisonment. When we finally overthrow the government of the current wizarding world, I want Sirius to be a part of the change. If you can find a way back as well, Regulus, we would be honored to bring you into the plan as well. For now, we must find Sirius. If we have to fight through Death Eaters along the way, so be it. I learned a thing or two through Voldemort himself.'

'You weren't an heir to him, were you?' Regulus asked calmly.

'No, no, nothing like that,' said Harry dismissively, and he rubbed his scar, bringing the attention to it. It was dull on his skin. 'I have a mind-link with him. No one has ever been able to explain it, but Occlumency does not block its direct connection to my mind. He can place false visions into my mind, and he can make me see what he sees. I've taken advantage of this throughout my years in Azkaban.'

'You were in Azkaban?!'

'I was thrown there on false charges of murder,' Harry replied, his eyes narrowing at the reminder. 'Everybody aside from a select group believed that I murdered my muggle relatives. Severus was a leader of sorts for the group that believed my words, as he and Draco Malfoy testified for me in court. Suspiciously, they were the only two allowed to speak in my defense, among the other few dozen who spoke against me, including my two bests friends of the time, who will remain nameless.'

'Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger,' Regulus said, raising an eyebrow, and he laughed at Harry's surprised look. 'Come now, Potter, I can read your thoughts, you know that. I don't recognize the name Granger, so I assume she's a muggle-born, but Weasley I recognize. He must be the son of Arthur Weasley.'

'So are we,' said the twins in unison.

'So you are,' agreed Regulus, who had read their thoughts without even looking at them. 'You seek Sirius Black, and so do I. We would do better to team up and find him.'

'I suppose we would,' said Harry, nodding at Regulus's words.

'And then, my friends, we will leave this world. Sirius was disowned from the Black family, but there will only be an heir when I return. Both Sirius and I remain childless. I will return to lead the Black family to its former glory.'

'So we now go to find Sirius?' Harry asked, noticing that the sky was beginning to brighten again.

'Now we go to find Sirius,' agreed Regulus.

------------

Author's Note:

It's been nine days since I updated, and I didn't want to carry on forever with both making you wait and writing one chapter, so here's the fifth chapter. In case you are all wondering, I plan to have them out of this veil world at chapter seven at the latest, in case you're getting sick of it.

Next chapter: Chapter 6: Found and Unforgotten


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